







■*^o« 















co* .i5<;^/'^°o 












^^ 






o. » 



'U-O^ 



o^ ♦#,!• ^0 ^ 4.;^o ^•'^ ^o ♦on** .0'' 



K-?^"'*' 





V'-O^ 



JP- 



• •• 














, -it 

























• < o 





GNOMICA 



GNOMICA: 

DETACHED THOUGHTS, SENTENTIOUS, 
AXIOMATIC, MORAL AND CRITICAL: 

BUT ESPECIALLY 

WITH REFERENCE TO POETICAL FACULTIES, 
AND HABITS. 



B Y 



Sir EGERTON BRYDGES, Bar.% 

B. C. de S. etc. etc. 



GENEVA, ^ 

Printed by W. F I C K. 
Feb. mdcccxxiv. 




( IS copies only. ) 



\"'\):\.Q.^ 



A CATALOGUE (*) 

OF ALL THE WORKS 

PRINTED AT THE PRIVATE PRESS AT LEE PRIORY 

O KENT : 

FROM ITS COBIMEPfCEMENT IIS JTJLY 1 8 1 3 , TILL ITS 
TER3IiyATIO:N" IIV JA^. iSlS, 



N, B. Unless -where oilienvise iioticed , the Works 
printed at the Lee Priory Press, isnd vvhich are 
MOW Jinally discontinued , v. ere slrlctlv and uniform Ij 
limited to loo Copies. 



IN ROYAL QUARTO. 

I. Speeches dcli\'ered to Qiir,^n Elizabeth ^ at Sudciey 

Castle , tlie seat of Giles Brj-dges , Lord C/umclos. 
2.. Sir IValter Raleigh's Poems. 

3. Greene's Groats-worth of Wit; bought with a Mil- 
lion of Repentance. Of tliis Work only 65 Copies 
were printed. 

4. William Browne* s Occasional Poems , never before 
printed, fn 4 Parts. 

5. Select Poems ^ by Sir Egerton Brydges. 
G. Occasional Poems : by Ihe Same Author. 

7. Nicholas Bretons Longing of a Blessed Heart. 

(*) Copied from i!ie Advertisement of John Warwick., the late 
Printer of the Lee Priory Press, with a few vcrbwl adciitious. 



2 LEE PRIORY PRESS. 

(S. IV. Breton's Melancholike Humours. 

9. Sonnets from Petrarch : by the Rev A Fr. fVrangham. 

10. Dunluce Castle^ a Poem: by Edward Quillinan^ 
Esq. 

1 1 . Stanzas : by the Same Author. 



IN ROYAL OCTAVO, 



12. Francis Davison's Poetical Rhapsody: {a new Edi" 

tion.) In 4 Parts. 
i3. The Sylvan Wanderer : by Sir Egerton Brydges. In 

4 Parts. 
14. Excerpta Tudoriana : ( a Selection of Elizabethan 

Poetry. ) In 7 Parts. 
i5. Michael Drayton s Nymphidia ^ the Court of Fairy : 

( a ne\>v Edition. ) 
i6. Liije of Sir Philip Sydney: by Fulke G revile .^ Lord 

Brook, In 2 Vols. 

17. Li/e of Margaret Cavendish ^ Duchess of Newcastle: 
written by Herself 

18. Poems of Margaret , Duchess of Newcastle : 2.S Copies 
printed as a specimen of the Lee Priory Press, 
and the first Work printed there ; ( not sold. ) 

19. The Characters of Robert Devereux Earl of Essex ^ 
and George Villiers , Duke of Buckingham : by Sir 
Henry Wotton. 

20. Bertram \ a Poetical Tale , in Four Cantos : by Sir 
Egerton Brydges. 

21. Eist of the Pictures at Lee Priory. — 60 Copies 
printed. 

22. The Ravished Soul^ and Blessed Weeper; by Nicholois 
Breton. 



LEE PRIORY PRESS. 



IN DEMY OCTAVO. 



^3. Fames Memorial : an Elegy upon the Earl of Be- 
voushire: by John Ford. Edited by Mr. Haslewood. 

24. Eetlersfrom the Continent : by Sir Egerton Brydges, 
In 2. Vols. 

25. What are Eiches? ( a second Edition. ) by the Same 
Author. (The first Edition was printed at Geneva. ) 



IN POST QUARTO. 



26. Hagthorpe Revived : or Select 

Specimens of a Forgotten Poet: 

edited by Sir Egerton Brydges. J> For the Roxburghe Ciub. 
2.'j. Jack Jugler and Thersytes : 

edited by MJ Haslewood .... 

28. Select Funeral IVIemorials. In 2. Parts. 

29. Ccelia : consisting of Twenty Sonnets : by VTilliam 
Percy. 

30. Elegiac Verses^ addressed to Lady Brydges^ by 
Edward Quillinan , Esq. 

3i. Woodcuts ^ and Verses by the same Author ., illus- 
trative of each Cut. In one Vol. This Volume em- 
braces the whole of the Engravings used in the various 
Works of the Lee Press. 



IN POST OCTAVO. 

32. Eife and Death of Sir Francis Drake : by Charles 
Fitz-geffrey. 

33. The Trumpet of Fame. 

34. Eife and Death of William Powlett ? First Marquis 
of Winchester: by R. Broughion. 



4 LEE PRIORY PRESS. 

35. The Brother-in-Law ; a Comedy: by the Ret^. Henry 
Card. 

36. Nicholas Bretons Praise of Virtuous Toadies. 

37. Blchard Brai'h'waytts Select Odes. 

38. Desultoria : by Sir Egerton Brydges. 

39. George Wither s Select Lyrical Poems. 

N.B. N.o 2/^. Letters from the Continent , and N.'' zS 
What are Riches , (the two last Works printed , ) may 
Le bad of R.' Tripliook, Old Bond Street. A few ropies 
of some of the other Works , and Parts that remain , 
may be had of the Printer, John Warwick, wlio has 
now established a Press at ]\.° 4^1 Brooke Street, llol- 
born , London : — or of Mr. Triphook , or Mess.^* 
Longman. 

The Engravings on Wood used in the Lee Priory 
Works , are deposited at the Mansion of Lee Priory , 
in Kent; according to the pledge given concerning them; 
and will Beyer be permitted to be used again. 

LoHDON , Printed by John WARWICK , 4o , Brooke 
Street, Holborn. March ^ i82;3. 



Geneva , Reprinted by William FiCK 
10.^^^ March ^ 1824. 



LEE PRIORY PRESS. 



ADDITIONS 

TO THE ABOVE ADVERTISEMENT. 



J. o the above Advertisement of John Warwick , the 
Lee- Priory -Prluler , it may be desirable to add a few 
notices. Of the foregoing publications which were the 
property of thePRiiSTER, and done for his exclusive be- 
nefit and at his cost and risk , nothing was engaged for 
by Sir E. Brydges but the gratuitous labour (*) of the 
Editorship, or of the compositions of his own pen. The 
owner of the Mansion , ( the Editor's son , ) gave the 
use of the rooms where the Press was erected. 

The only benefit to which the Editor looked, beyond 
that of the Pri:nter, was a benefit to Literature, resulting 
from the reprint of several Tracts at once scarce and 
curious, which had been for one or two Centuries buried 
treasures. 

There is nothing to which the captiousness of malice, 
envy, ill-Avill, and prejudice will not find oljjections : 
and it may perhaps be pretended , that these Tracts 
were not worth reprinting : that they were only inte- 
restinsj to Bibliomaniacs ; and useless to solid literature. 
How little ground there is for such an objection , the 
titles of some of these Reprints , ( if not of all , ) will 
easily shew to every Englishman of any education. Mere 
base ignorance alone can deem Lord Brook's Life of Sir 

(*) Though pecuniary assistance -was refused to be engaged for,- 
much gratuitous pecuniary assistance was gwen. 



b LEE PRIORY PRESS. 

Philipp Sydjney au unmstructlve or unafFecting trifle: vet 
the only previous Edition of it was rarely to be met 
with. He, who does not feel interest in the Poems of 
that illustrious Man Sir Walter Raleigh , which were 
never before collected , must be strangely deficient in 
the qualities both of the heart and the head ! The 
OccAsioivAL Poems of William Browne , the Pastoral 
poet, now given from the Lee Priory Press, had hitherto 
remained in MS. and were entirely unknown : they are , 
in the Editor's opinion much superior to those produc- 
tions on which his fame had been built ; because they 
are much less affected. The Rhapsody collected by Francis 
Davison , the son of that unfortunate Secretary to Queen 
Elizabeth , whose name is so deeply connected with 
the fate of Mary Queen of Scots , is as interesting in 
its matter , as the former Editions of it are rare. The 
Autographical Memoir of Margaret Duchess of New- 
castle y extracted from one of her scarcest works, is a 
piece of biography of exquisite curiosity. All the pieces 
of Nicholas Breton are as beautiful as they were hitherto 
unattainable. Charles Fitzgeffrey's Sir Francis Drake 
is not merely very uncommon, but a very laboured and 
valuable production ; more studied and quaint than full 
of fire and genius ; but still the production of superior 
endowments ; and a specimen of the literature of the 
Age, far from insignificant. 

It is not necessary to say more here. The Repiiuts 
already noticed are sufficient to indicate the tone of lite- 
rature , which characterizes the Works of the Lee Priory 
Press. 



CATALOGCE. 



A CATALOGUE OF OTHER WORKS 
WRITTEN, OR EDITED, BY SIR EGERTON BRYDGES, 

BarJ , B. C. de S. etc. etc. 



40. Sonnets and other Poems. S.° March , 1785. 4*^ Edit. 
1807. 12.° 

41. Mai^j De-Clifford. 1792. 12..^ 1802. 8.«> 

42. Arthur Fitzalbini^ 2. vols. 1798, 2.^ Ed. 1799, 12. <^ 

43. Le Forester., 3 vols. 1802. 12.° 

44- The Ruminator : Essays Moral and Critical^ 2 vols. 
12.0 1814. 

45. Topographical Miscellanies^ ^79^ 9 ^-^ 

46. Tests of the Natiojial Wealth., ^799- ^° 

47. Reflections on the Augmentations of the Peerage, 
1798. 8.' With a Biographical Eist of Qu, Elizabeth's 
Peers. 

48. Letters on the Poor Laws , 181 4, 8.^ 

49. Arguments for the Employment of the Poor, 1817, 8.^ 

50. Reasons for the farther Amendment of the Act 54 
Geo. III. c. i56 , regarding Copyright. 1817, 8.® 

En. A Summary statement of the Grievances imposed on 

Literature by the said Act. 8.° 
52. A Vindication of the Pending Bill for the Amend" 

ment of tlie said Act. 1818. 8.0 



53. Censura Literaria , 10 vols. 8.° 1806, 1809. 2.^ Ed. 
i8i5. 

54. British Bibliographer , ( aided by J, Haslewood ) , 
4 vols. 8.® 1 810. etc. 



8 CATALOGUE. 

55. Bestituta: 4 vols. 8.° 1814. 1816. 

56. The Peerage of 'England , originally compiled hy 
Arthur Collins — a new Edition continued and 
greatly augmented by Sir E. Brydges , 9 wo/^ , large S.^ 
1812. 

67. Theatrum Poetarum Anglicanorum hy E. Phillips^ 
1675. — a new edit, greatly augmented hy Sir E. 
Brydges , 1800. 8.° 

58. Archaica : Beprints of Scarce old English Prose 
Tracts^ 2. vols. 4.° 181 5. 

59. England's Helicon , reprinted from the Edit, of 
1600. 4-° 

60. Paradise of Dainty Devises , reprinted from the 
Edition of 1576. 4-° 18 10. 

61. Geo. Withers Shepherd's Hunting , new Edition 
i8i5. 12.0 

62. Fidelia , ib. ib. 

63. Fair Virtue^ i8i5, ib. 

v\64. Hymns of the Churchy 181 5, 8." 

65. William Earl of Pembroke's Poems , new Edit, 
1817. 12.° 

66. C. Barksdale s Nympha hibethris^ new Ed. 181 5, i^.** 

67. T. Stanley's Poems ^ new Ed. 18 14. 8.° 
gy. Anacreon , new Ed. 181 5 , 8.^ 

69. Poems hy John Hall of Durham ^ new Ed. 181 5 , 8.^ 

70. Poems hy William Hammond i655 , new Edit. 
1816, 4.° 

71. Sir Walter Baleigh's Poems ^ new Ed. 1814? 12.^ 

72. TheHallofHellingsley^ a Tale., 3 vols., 1822, 12.° 

73. Memoirs of K. James's Peers ^ ^799* ^° 



PREFATORY LETTER, 

TO * •* -^ ■¥• r- Y- ^ * -f- 



M 



Y DEAR 



Geneva, 7 Feh. 18244 
The following detached Papers were written at tl)e dates 
respectively affixed to tliem. This may be an amusement, 
which you will not blame : but yon will ask , a why print 
them ? » — I answer : because they seem to me to con- 
tain truths J which are not only intrinsically important j, 
but the reverse of trite, ^^/hat is stale, however just, 
will not bear repetition : though it may please those 
weak intellects , which can only comprehend what is fami- 
liar to them ; and dislike that which puts their faculties of 
apprehension to the trial. 

Nothing differs more than the purposes w^hich dlffefent 
authors propose to themselves by their writings. Some use 
them as the means of pecuniary profit , or at least of 
worldly success and exaltation in society and in the bu* 
siness of life. Such men are the slaves of public opinion \ 
and must follow and flatter the passions and prejudices of 
mankind , instead of going contrary to them , and of eft* 
deavouring to correct , or expose them. Others are Cay*' 
ried by an irresistible impulse to search for Triith \ and 
place their whole gratification in the intrinsic value of th§ 
discovery. 



VI >r.VFArorx"Y LETTKU. 

« But what is the proof of the discovery ? Are not errors 
w as likely to take place here , as in the opinions of the 
w multitude ? w — It may be admitted , that labour may 
not succeed ; cultivation may not produce fruit; talents may 
err.; genius may misapprehend false lights for genuine I 
But will ignorance therefore judge more accurately than 
knowlege ; passion and interest decide more justly than 
calm and abstract reflection ; and coarse and dull capaci- 
ties penetrate deeper than native acuteness , sagacity , and 
force ? — 

In these days Men born for better purposes have no 
shame in pampering the appetites of the Multitude. They 
laugh to themselves , while they cry in secret ; « qui vult 
decipi ^ decipiatur ! » — Yet neither the fields of moral phi- 
losophy , nor of history , nor of fiction , are exhausted ; — 
nor ever will be exhausted ! — Books are multiplied , 
which only load libraries , and encumber or mislead the 
mind : while almost all that requires to be entered upon, 
is shunned as if it were evil and pestilent ground. It is 
ihe domination of popular opinion which has effected this, 

L'Abbe Brizabd in his Eloge on L'Abbe de Mably, says, 

« Les Lettres lui offroient un asyle ; il se refugia dans 
leur sein ; il prefera I'etude , son cabinet , ses livres , une 
pauvrete noble et libre a toutes les seductions de la for- 
tune ; et aussi - tot qu'il eut pris son parti , on ne le vit 
jamais jeter un regard en arriere. N'ayant rien a pretendre 
ne rien a perdre , ses sentimens etoient a lui : il ne fut 
point oblige d'enchainer ses idees aux idees des autres , 
d'adopter leurs opinions , et de recevoir , pour ainsi dire , 
ses pensees toutes faconnees de leurs mains : il crut qu'il 
falloit d'etre soi. II se separa de la multitude , et mai'cha 
presque seul dans I'etroit sentier qu'il s'etoit trace. Ses 
principes et son caractere , ses ecrits et sa conduite tran- 
chcrent toujours avec le gout dominant , et le Ion general 
de son siecle. v ~ 



rrvJ-.FATORV LKTTaU. VII 

Again in the Notes it is said , lliat 

« Son desinteresscment etoit tel , qu'il ne relira rien de 
ses ouvrages ; a peine exigeioit-il quelques exemplaires pour 
les presens d'usages ; bien different de ces litterateurs qui 
n'estiment dans le commerce des Muses que le profit que 
ce commerce leur rapporte. » 

In the paths which the public taste favours , there is no 
difficulty to find authors : — it is in the walks of laborious 
research and profound thought that the rarity lies ; in 
which excellence is an obstacle to fame ; and in which 
there is no encouragement but the internal satisfaction of 
self-devoted enthusiasm. 

I do not recollect an instance of a writer for hire , or 
of one mainly influenced by lucre, whose productions have 
continued in repute with posterity. Profit comes from a 
quick and indiscriminate reception : what is of lasting in- 
terest , and depends on the approbation of master minds , 
is of slow progress. It is , as in the animal and vegetable 
world : what is of rapid growth , is proportionally short- 
lived. Milton's Paradise Lost required the weight of the 
authority of the leading talents of successive generations to 
procure for it the due reception. If the merit of a literary 
work is to be tried by the number of readers , whom it 
interests , what work of genius can be put in competition 
with a Newspaper ? Many publications are calculated to 
circulate exactly in proportion as they vicious. What is 
so popular ,^ as personalities, satire, scandal, and libel? 

« But if the Public v/ill not hear , why not let them go 
»; their own way without vain exertions to controul them ? » — 

Is it certain then , that the exertions are quite vain ? — 
Are there not a few choice spirits , Avho may be touched 
and pleased ? If there be truth , if the production contain 
any thing of life , some of the seeds are sure to fall in a 
congenial soil! But if it do no good , if it be erroneous ^^ 



Xlll PREFATORY LETTER. 

or dull, — so long as it neillier flatters any Yice, nor pro- 
pagates any miscliicf , wiiom can it harm , unless the author 
in his pocket ? If" it be harmless to others , the author at 
least lias been amused, and innocently occupied: — nor, 
if he has missed the truth , is it possible that he can have 
avoided to improve and strengthen his mind by the exer- 
cise ! — - 

Will any one write but with the hope that what, he 
writes may some day be brought to the test of other men's 
minds ? And who, till he has written, is sure of the clear- 
ness and rectitude of his own conceptions ? 

The importance of the topics , which are discussed in this 
volume, will he differently estimated by minds and dispo- 
sitions differently formed. Many of them are questions 
which will almost daily recur to a certain class of literary 
devotees: and moral and conscientious minds are always 
pleased with whatever contributes to allay the restlessness 
of doubi. Providence , indeed , has permitted a portion of 
mankind to remain content with a sensual existence , free 
from the disturbance of inquisitive thoughts , and of anxious 
fears regarding the ends of our Being , and the purposes 
of the intellectual capacities with which we are endowed. 
But there is a sleepless fire , which , if not universally , is 
ivldely implanted in the human heart ; and this fire is ever 
at work to stimulate us to higher hopes , and to urge us 
to explore the more shadowy qualities of that part of our 
nature which allies us to a more spiritual slate of exis- 
tence. -^— Into these subtle and invisible regions there are 
many who feel a reluctance , and still more who feel an 
incapacity, to go. But yet there are enough to satisfy the 
pride of him who holds the torch to them. 

The abstruscness of metaphysical and psychological stu- 
dies renders the pursuit of them very difficult. The only 
sane fountain of intelligence is to be sought in strict iu" 



PREFATORY LETTER. IX 

ternal examination ; and the best lights are of course to be 
had, where the capacities examined are brightest. But per- 
sons of lively thought, active sentiment, and strong ima- 
gination , have seldom the patience necessary for this strict 
and laborious scrutiny. The task therefore falls for the 
most part on those whose resources are less rich , and 
secrets less worth unveiling. In this field then much remains 
to be explored ; and all that is drawn from this rich and 
genuine fountain is a treasure gained. 

Though a large portion of those who write for the 
Press , are but mere echoes of echoes , and continue to 
multiply the same ideas and expressions , still enfeebled 
and become more imperfect at every remove ; and though 
of these the proof that it is a mere copy is so obvious as 
to permit no doubt ; yet there are other small portions of 
authors , who tread upon the confines of originality ; who 
sometimes for a moment enter within the boundaries ; 
whose efforts therefore it would be an unjust severity to 
stifle ; who may at least have a chance of being useful ; 
and who by some lucky collision may contribute some 
sparks to enlighten the world. If it were to be assumed 
that mankind are already arrived at the acme of human 
intelligence ; that all of good and wise which can be 
thought and said , has been already adequately thought 
and said , the Human Mind would soon lose its vigour , 
and by no slow descent fall into torpor and imbecillity. 
It is impossible to be stationary : if we do not endeavour 
to be progressive , we shall be retrograde. On many sub- 
jects much doubtful speculation must be hazarded before 
we arrive at the truth : there must be much sifting ; for 
the golden ore will sometimes be unexpectedly found amid 
dust and rubbish. — 

It would be a most censurable severity to suppress 
every thing which does not unite perfection of genius and 



X PREFATORY LETTER.. 

truth : I mean , of that which aspires to be of a general 
nature : for what is temporary and occasional must always 
be called for ; and requires only novelty of application ; 
not of matter. 

He , who tasks himself to develop principles and senti- 
ments , undertakes an arduous and high function ; and 
ought to be treated with candour and favour, if he shews 
abilities and exertions in any degree commensurate to his 
ambition- Facts , which form the matter of history , are , 
■when the interest derived from novelty bas ceased , only 
valuable so far as they illustrate principles and sentiments. 
These last alone form the essence of the fruits of the high- 
est efforts of the human intellect : to these last alone 
may be ascribed the c|ualities of ubiquity and eternity. — 

The rewards of permanent literature are so distant , so 
contingent , and so shadowy , that the fires necessary to 
sustain the pursuit must be of the purest and most inex- 
tinguishable kind. What touches transient , personal , and 
narrow interests , gives a strong though quickly-spent im- 
pulse ; it supplies false strength; and affords factitious aid 
which for a little while is mistaken for genius. 

The mass of Human Beings are born to know only so 
far as they are taught ; to strike out no new lights ; to 
form no new lessons ; to clear up nothing which is obs- 
cure ; to withdraw the veil from nothing which is hidden. 
Few of them know much of what books or conversation 
will teach ; and none of them know any thing beyond. — ■ 

Not only is that , which is new and just , reserved for 
the discovery of gifted minds; but the most original pow- 
ers often catch light only by fits amid surrounding dark- 
ness. The flashes come and are lost again: and it is only 
by repeated intensity of view, that what they display is at 
length clearly distinguished. 

But of the Few , who possess the faculties of original 



PREFATORY LETTER. 



thought, some are overpowered by diffidence to waste the 
precious inheritance by compiling from their predecessors: 
while of the Deficient, many are urged by arrogance and 
vanity to make impotent efforts at thinking for themselves, 
which end in vapour or absurdity. 

Despondence sometimes makes the strong limit their toils 
to humble uudertakings : and the Public is always willing 
to judge them by their meanest , . and not by their best 
works. It is not believed that he who has employed him- 
self in the timid and unambitious occupation of Editor , 
can produce compositions , — much less inventions , — of 
his own. And such an one perhaps does very ill in losing 
his time in labours , which a common dull mechanical atten- 
tion will execute much better than his excursive talents. 

Literature , which was formerly tlie solace of wisdom in 
solitude , the refuge of the afflicted , and the balm of the 
unfortunate , is now become the dirty instrument of the 
Cunning , working their way in society over the heads of 
unintriguing merit. The whole cast of opinions inculcated 
is the cast of men of the world : every thing is estimated 
by its fitness for success in life ; and every thing ridiculed 
which is not calculated for that end. All observers notice 
the decided triumph with which an adroit man, daily con- 
versant with life, by the aid of very moderate talents and 
acquirements takes the lead in company, over one of great 
abilities and knowlege who has lived much out of the 
world and alone. It is thus that the mechanical litera- 
ture , which is in possession of the public ear , turns the 
weapons in which it deals to its OAvn account. It knows 
where the laugh is ready ; and its first aim is to destroy 
the respect , which wards off aggression. What is called 
good common sense , is very often nothing more than a 
mean preference of direct and selfish interests to those 
noble and ideal ambitions , by which only any thing great 



SII PREFATORY LETTER* 

is ever performed. The world does not require to be ren- 
dered more acute in what self- interest prompts : it requires 
only to be encouraged in those rarer faculties and pas- 
sions , by which the present is sacrificed to the future ; 
the near to the distant ; and what is before us to that 
"which is absent. 

An endeavour is constantly made to divert the public 
mind from the true tests of intellectual superiority. Yet 
there is no just opening for difference of opinion on the 
subject. No one of sound mind who has read and though t^ 
for instance , can doubt what constitutes poetical genius. 
No one can doubt that its primary quality is an imagina- 
tion of things noble, pathetic, or beautiful. Dry Reasoning 
will not do ; abstract moral truths will not do ; ingenious 
and correct deductions from profound or nice observation 
will not do : - — nay , mere fancy , though vivid , — the 
lively representation of a particular reality , — is not the 
power which constitutes the primary quality of a poet. 
There must be fiction , creation , invention : — the mind 
must combine anew the materials which the fancy collects 
from without. But the combination must not be incon- 
gruous and monstrous : it must be probable , and accor- 
ding to the laws of nature : and it must also be subhme , 
or fair , or tender. 

Imagination of what is grotesque or revolting or mean 
is not poetical : because the purpose of poetry is to give 
refined and virtuous delight. 

Indiscriminalive and blundering minds take Imagination 
in its unlimited sense to be synonymous with Poetry. But 
if the above position be true , a poetical imagination re- 
quires other qualities than mere invention or fiction. If 
mere novelty be sufficient , without regard to propriety 
and verisimilitude , there can never be much difficulty in 
invention. 



PREFATORY LETTER. xilt 

But in a late stage of society , ivhen manners are Tery 
corrupt , and sentiments lake a temperament of iaclitious 
fever , the simplicity of tiulli has lost its charm : Tvhat is 
piquant and stioiulative is alone endured ; — and if tlie 
impulse be violent , no matter how short its duration ! — 

Works are now written for vendibility alone ; and there- 
fore are framed to the humble faculties and acquirements 
of the Blultitude : And Criticism for the same reason , i];« 
stead of directing its efforts to cheer the labours and 
extend the influence of Genius and Learning , applies all 
its ingenuity to conlirm the Multitude in the vain conceit 
of its own right taste. 

It is said by the advocates of the liberty , or rather 
licence , of the Press , that the guilt of popular errors 
must not be attributed to it ; because it follows, not leads, 
the popular opinion. — This is true : — but then it is 
equally mischievous in re-acting upon it , and confirming it. 

Mercenary writers do not trouble themselves about con- 
victions : they have no fixed oj)inions : they are the mere 
conduit-pipes of what springs from others ; and transmit 
without care or enquiry whatever is poured into them. 

But what supplies occasion to pause and reflect ; what 
gives hints for doubt , and data for enquiry and examina- 
tion , cannot be useless , unless it be done feebly or igno- 
rantly or perversely. 

Too many of mankind , indeed , are utterly indifferent 
witli regard to the intellectual nature of their Being : — • 
they are content w^ith the luxury of the material blessings 
of tlieir existence : they are affected by no uneasiness to 
have those doubts resolved , about which they never felt 
any curiosity : and tliey have no deaire to ascertain the 
qualities fitted for success in that line of ambition, to which 
they arc totally insensible. 



ItlV PriSFATORY LETTER. 

10 Feh, 1824. 

I had written thus far , when a work fell , yesterday , 
into my hands, in which I have found, (almost through- 
out , ) an extraordinary coincidence of opinion with that 
which I have advanced in this Letter , and endeavoured 
to enforce in almost every part of this volume. As these 
opinions are strongly opposed both to the prejudices and 
the necessary modes of thinking of the generality of rea- 
ders , I am more anxious for the support of an author of 
credit on this subject, than for the praise of novelty. It is 
true that authority cannot turn error into truth ; and that 
the proposition , which is built upon reason , can stand 
by itself. But there are certain conclusions directly opposed 
to the stream , on which it is impossible to avoid a little 
self-distrust. One may suspect some self-deception ; some 
radical misapprehension ; some unperceived influence of 
passion or prejudice. But the concurrence of a man of 
acknowledged learning and talent , of a different age and 
nation , and of different habits , satisfactorily removes the 
fear of the operation of accidental and irrelevant impulses 
upon one's mind ; and is evidence that the source of 
these conclusions is to be found in general principles , 
and the common laws of reason. 

L'Abbe Trublet ( * ) in Essais sur Divers Sujets de Lit-- 
terature et de Morale fQ.^Edit. Amsterdam , 17 55, iiS^J 
in his Chapter containing Reflexions sur le Gout , ou Von 
examine la Maxime ; qu'il faut ecrire pour tout le monde I 
(vol, II. p. 10 J says: 

« II faut ecrire pour tout le monde , si Ton veut plaire 
ii tout le monde ; mais , pour arriver a ce but , il faut 
ecrire dune maniere moins parfaite , que si Ton n'ecrivoit 
que pour les gens de beaucoup d'esprit. » P. 22. 

C^) Obt. 1770, aet. 74. 



PE.EFATORY LETTER. XV 

P. 26. « II y a des Ouvrages qui ne sont plus repan-^ 
dus , et plus generalement goutes que d'autres , que parce 
qu'ils sont moins eslimables , et moins estlmes en effet des 
vrais connoiss^rs. lis ne sont a la portee de tout le 
monde que parce que leurs Auteurs , peu capables de 
penser au - dela , n'etoient point eux - memes des esprits, 
superieurs. Les Auteurs ne doivent done pas toujours me- 
surer leur merite a leur succes. lis doivent croire au con- 
traire qu'il y a de grandes beautes qui ne sont pas d'ujh 
gout si general que de moindres , lesquelles y par cela 
meme , sont a la portee d'un plus grand nomhre. » (*) 

« L'Ecrivain qui pense beaucoup , et qui fait penser , ne 
sera jamais rEcrivain de la multitude. Elle ne sauroit 
monter jusqu'a lui ; et il ne pourroit descendre jusqu'a. 
elle , qu'en se rabaissant, » 

P. 58. « La plupart des Ouvrages que le public estime 
le plus aujourd'hui , ne sont parvenus que par degres a 
cette approbation universelle. Un succes trop brillant dans 
les commencemens , est un mauvais prejuge pour la suite ^ 
et ne prouve souvent que la mediocrile d'un Ouvrage. Des 
beautes qui sont a la portee de tout le monde , ont bien- 
tot fait leur impression. De grandes beautes sont quelque- 
fois moins frappantes ; et il est rare qu'un Ouvrage du 
premier inerite obtienne d'abord les suffrages du grand 
nombre. L'estime du public n'est jamais plus constante ,. 
que lorsqu'elle s'est fait attendre quelque tems. » 

P. 60^ « Quant a ceux qui veulent plaire a la posterite 
plutot qu'a leur siecle , qui ambitionnent une gloire du- 
rable plutot qu'un succes passager , la prudence leur dicte 
d'ecrire pour le petit nombre. Le sort d'un ouvrage fait 
pour la multitude , est tout au plus de demeurer entre les 
mains de la multitude j mais il ne passe point dans celles. 

(*) «Mr. de la Motte, Dlscours. sur laes de Castro. •>->- 



XVI PREFATORY LETTER. 

des personnes d'un es^^rit suptrieur. An - con 1 1 aire , un 
Ouvrage fait pour le pelit nombre , parvient a I'aide du 
tems dans les mains de tout le monde. Les gens d'esprit 
elevent peu-a-peu les es2:!rits les phis mediocres. On se fait 
lionneur d'etre de I'avis de ceux qui passent pour avoir le 
plus de lumiere et de discemement. La vanite qui fait 
d'abord parler comme eux , mene ensuite a penser et a 
senlir comme eux. Ainsi les esprlls se perfectionnant de 
jour en jour , tel ouvrage trop fort pour le public vivant 
il y a cent ans , seroit tres a la portee du public au- 
jourd'hui. Nous sommes plus eclaires que nos ancetres , 
et nos descendans le seront plus que nous. II pourra done 
bien arriver qu'ils feront assez pen de cas de quelques 
Ouvrages que nous estimons beaucoup ; et qu'au-contraire 
lis en estimeront beaucoup quelques aulres, auxquels nous 
ne rendons pas une entiere justice. Au feste , il y a en 
tout tems de bons esprits , qui jugent comme jugera un 
jour la posterile ; il y a en tout tems , si je puis m'ex- 
primer de la sorte , nne posterite vivante. » 

Such , among others , is the reasoning of L'Abbe Trublet 
on tiie opiiiicn that popidarilj is a test of literary merit. 



The following seems to me exceedingly w^ell discrimi- 
nated as to novelty of thought , on which there is a me- 
morable opinion of D.^ Johnson, (in his Life of Gray.) 

P, H2. « Pour combatlre ce ^xo, personne n'a jamais 
cru , qu'une pensce neuve est celle que personne n'a dd 
avoir y M.* Dcsprcaiix se jelte dans rextremite opposee , 
lorsqu'ii dit , que c'est an contraire une pensee qui a du 
venir a tout le monde, 11 est vrai , que quelquefois une 
pensee tres-biillante n'cst au fond qu'une idee commune , 
yevetue d'un tour ingenieux. II est vrai encore qu'une 
pensee neuve parolt c[uelquefois si nalurelle , qu'on est 



PREFATORY LETTEFx. XVII 

surpris qu'elle solt neuve , et qu'on s'imagine qu'elle a du 
venir a tout le monde. Mais il y a aussi des pensees qui 
annoncent et qui caracterisent un genie superieur , des 
pensees dont on sent bien que tout le monde n'est pas 
capable ; et ce sont sans doute les plus belles. Les autres 
nous font plaisir ; celles-ci s'attirent notre admiration ; et 
tel Auteur a merite pour un petit nombre de ces pensees , 
d'etre mis au rang des plus grands hommes. 



On the effects of the occupation of writing , tlie follow- 
ing seem to me admirable : 

Vol. IV. p. 4. « La plupart de ceux qui sont dans 
I'habitude d'ecrire , n'aiment pas a lire ; cela ne les occupe 
pas assez vivement , et il faut qu'une lecture soit tres- 
piquante pour ne leur paroitre pas insipide , en compa- 
raison de la composition. Independamment de I'amour 
propre , on s'amuse bien davantage avec son propre esprit 
qu'avec celui d'autrui. 

« II vaudroit pourtant mieux faire le contraire , et lire 
qu'ecrire , du moins pour imprimer. Cela est moins vif, 
mais plus tranquille , et n'a point de suites faclieuses , 
soit pour la sante que te travail d'esprit detruit souvent , 
soit pour la reputation que I'impression expose toujours , 
et qui , repondit - elle aux voeux de 1' Auteur , vaut rare- 
ment ce qu'elle coute. » 

P. 7. « On compose pour imprimer ; j'imprime pour 
composer. Si en composant je n'avois pas le but d'impres- 
sion , mon travail ne seroit pas assez anime pour me 
sauver de I'eiinui. Quel qu'eut ete le sort de mes Essais , 
etc. , j'en avois deja retire, avant de les publier , un fruit 
plus precieux que le succes meme. lis m'avoient long-tems 
occupe sans trop m'appliquer. » 

« On peut dire de la composition , comme de la vertu j» 



PREFATor.Y LETTER. 



qu'elle est a elle - meiiie sa recompense , par le plaislr qui 
l*accoinpagne. » 

« Si les gens de Lettres pouvoient se "borner a ecrire , 
a la verite dans le dessein d'imprimer, mais sans I'effectuer 
jamais , ils seroient peut-etre les plus heureux des liommes. » 

« Ordinairement il n'y a qu'a perdre pour un liomme 
qui a une certaine reputation d'esprit , a donner quelque 
chose au public. 11 est rare que I'ouvrage reponde a ce 
qu'on attendoit de I'Auteur; presque toujours on le croyoit 
capable de mieux. Beaucoup de gens d'esprit, en devenant 
Auteurs , ont perdu une grande par tie de I'estime dont-ils 
jouissoient parmi leurs amis et leurs connaissances ^ et qui 
de-la s'etoit repandue dans le public. » 

P. II. « Le terns de I'etude et de la lecture pent etre 
regie et mesure , non celui de la composition. II y a 
d'heureux momens de genie qui ne reviennent point ; il 
faut done en proflter , non - seulement quand ils viennent , 
mais encore , si la sante le permet , tant qu'ils durent. » 

« On n'exprime jamais si heureusemcnt sa pensee , du 
moins on ne Fexprime jamais si vivement, que dans le 
premier moment qu'elle vient a I'esprit, C'est alors qu'elle 
plait davantage. Ensuite on se refroidit pour elle. » 

P. 10. a It est bien peu d'Auteurs quelque estimes et 
quelque modestes qu'ils soient, qui ne pensent encore plus 
avantageusement de leurs ouvrages , que le Public , et 
meme que leurs partisans les plus zeles» II ne seroit pas 
juste d'exiger d'un Auteur meprise , qu'il pensat de ses 
ouvrages comme le Public ; ce seroit lui commander I'im- 
possible. » — 

'P. 23. « La grande marque d'uu bon Ouvrage , c'est 
qu'on le Use une seconde fois, sinon avec autant de plaisir 
que la premiere, du moins avec autant d'estime. II en est 
pour lesquels Testime augmente a chaque lecture , ce sont 
les excellens. » 



PREFATORY LETTER. XIX 

« Les ;^crivains qui ont plus d'eclat que de solidite y et 
plus d'esprit que de jugement , perdent beaucoup a etre 
relus. Deux autres sortes d'Ecrivains y gagnent , les pen- 
seurs J et ceux qui sans penser autant , ecrivent avec jus- 
tesse et precision. » 



But what is most to the purpose of this Prefatory Letter j 
7 find in the first chapter of vol. i. of Trublet that 
which will make, much better than I can do, the apology 
I had intended to urge for the matter and manner of the 
Work now offered to the Public ; which J have chosen to 
make up of Detached Thoughts, 

Trublet begins witli a chapter « sur la maniere d'ecrire 
» par Pensees Detachees. » 

P. S. « Quelle consolation pour ceux qui aiment les 
Lettres , quel secours pour les Auteurs , si les grands 
hommes qui sont morts , sans avoir compose les ouvrages 
qu'ils mediloient , avoient jette sur le papier, comme Mr. 
Pascal , quelques des pensees qu'ils devoient y faire entrer, 
et surtout ces principles pensees qui devoient etre la base 
de tout I'edifice ! 

« Souvent ce qu'il y a de meilleur dans un Ouvrage , 
ce sont ces premieres idees , ces pensees qu'on a trouvees 
en soi sans les cliercher , et qui ont ete Foccasion de 
I'entreprendre. » — 

P. 6. « Combien le hazard n'amene-t-il pas de pensees, 
qu'on ne pent plus retrouver au besoin , et dont il ne 
reste qu'un souvenir confus ! II y a d'heureux momens 
dans la vie que ne reviennent pomt. D'ailleurs la chaleur 
de la conversation , et les idees des autres , font quelque- 
fois naitre des pensees qu'on auroit cherchees inutilement 
dans le cabinet , et a tete reposee. 



XX PREFATORY LETTER. 

« Quand meme on se rappelleroit aisement toutes les 
pensees qu'on a eues sur un sujet , des qu'on veut le 
trailer, combien d'autres pensees, qui n'ayant point de 
rapport a ce qui fait le principal objet des etudes et des 
ecrits d'un Auteur , sont par-la entierement perdues pour 
le public. » 

P. 7. «Qu'est-ce qui fait plaisir dans un ouvrage , a 
un Lecteur homme d'esprit ? C'est ce qui Teclaire, ce qui 
le fait penser. Tantot ce sera quelque principe lumineux; 
tantot une nouvelle preuve d'une verite ; quelquefois un 
tour extremement lieureux pour exprimer une chose , a la 
verite assez commune , mais qui n'avoit jamais ete aussi 
heureusement exprimee. Voila ce qu'un homme d'esprit 
cherche dans les Livres , et ce qu'il aime a retenir. Mais 
souvent il ne rencontre dans de gros volumes qu'un petit 
nombre de traits de cette nature. « 

« C'est un grand eloge de dire d'un Livre , qu'il fait 
penser ; et c'est un grand plaisir que la lecture d'un pa- 
reil Livre. Or tels sont surtout les bons Livres de pensees 
dctachees. Un Lecteur , homme d'esprit , et de reflexion , 
devient Auteur , en lisant Pascal , la Rochefoucauld , la 
Bruyere, » 

P. \i. « La maniere d'ecrire par pensees detachees , 
est, a certains egards, d'un grand secours pour la memoire. 
Le meillenr moyen de bien retenir ce qu'il y a de plus 
essentiel dans un Ouvrage d'une certaine etendue , c'est 
de le reduire en maximes , en sentences , en plusieurs 
articles. » 

P. 1 3. « On quitte et on reprend un Livre de pensees 
detachees , quand on le veut ; c'est une commodite. Mais 
on n'en coutume pas la lecture tant qu'on le veut ; elle 
n'attache pas assez ; elle fatigue meme. » — 

P. 23. Je crains qu'il n'y ait dans cet ouvrage quelques 
endroits trop abstraits et trop metaphysiques. Je n'annonce 



PREFATORY LETTER. XXrl 

que de la Litterature et de la Morale ; et sur cela le Lcc- 
teur ne se prepare pas sans doute a beaiicoiip d'attention. 
Je I'avertis neanraoins qu'il trouvera quelqucfols une asses 
long suite de raisonnemens, dont il seroit difficile de bicn 
sentir la liaison et la force , sans quelque application » 

P, 24. « On ne sauroit gueres aprofondir un sujet, quel 
qu'il puisse etre , chercher les causes des effets les plus 
communs , et dcmeler les differences delicates qui sont 
entre les objets , et un mot philosoplier , sans etre un 
peu abstrait. Mais etre abstrait et etre obscur , c'est la 
meme chose pour ceux qui sont accoutumes a faire plus 
d'usage de leur imagination que de leur esprit. Un Ou- 
Trage clair pour cette espece de Lecteurs , c'est celul qui 
les eblouit , et qui les remue vivement. Au contraire un 
Lecteur Pliilosophe ne trouve souvent que de Tobcurite et 
de la confusion , ou les esprits les plus bornes croyent 
Toir I'evidence la plus lumineuse. « — ■ 



As to REPETITIONS wJilcli , I cim wcll aivarc , cvill be one- 
of the first objectiojis made to my own Booh , / cite the 
following passage from Truhlet's A^'ertissemejit to his voL iii, 

« Je me permets jusqu'aux repetitions , et c'est bien pi« 
que les contradictions. Ces repetitions \ient de ce que j'ai 
beaucoup medite cliacune de mes pensees , et de ce que 
les memes se sont presentees a mon esprit en divers terns. 
Or revenant a ces pensees , ou ces pensees revenant a moi, 
il m'est venu aussi differens tours pour les exprimer ; et 
lorsque , peut-etre par amour propre , j'ai ete erabarrasse 
sur le choix , je les ai tons mis » — 

Vol II. p 35g. « J'avoue que je repete volonliers une 
verite tres- utile , parce que je crois cette repetition utile 
elle-meme , surtout quand c'est queiqu'une de ces verites 
que les prejuges ou les passions contestent encore sinon 
ouvertement , du moins dans le fond dii coeur. Quoiqu^ 



XXII PREFATORY LETTER, 

communes , quolque dites cent fols , elles ne I'ont pas 
encore ete assez souvent , ou assez bien , tandis qu'elles 
ne sont pas encore generalement crues , on qu'en les croyant 
on n'agit pas en consequence » 

« Les meilleurs choses qu'on puisse dire aux hommes , 
sont peut-etre deja ecrites ; mais on ne les cherclie point 
ou ellei sont ; on ne lit que les Livres nouveaux. On a 
grand tort sans doule , mais enfin' on Fa ce tort. » — 



But I must refrain from farther extracts , lest I should 
be accused of intruding on you the thoughts and expres- 
sions of another person , rather than my own : — even 
■while it is to meet the charge of singularity of opinions. 



However I must justify my assertions of the small trust 
to be put in popular taste by one of the highest of all 
human authorities. 

In that sublime but neglected poem the Paradise Regained 
of Milton, the Poet at the commencement of Z?. iii, represents 
our Saviour shewing to Satan the vanity of worldly fame, 
and the improper means by which it is generally attained : 
and in that magnificient reply , is this passage : 

« Thou neither dost persuade me to seek wealth 
For empire's sake , nor empire to affect 
For glory's sake , by all thy argument. 
For what is glory but the blaze of fame, 
The people's praise , if always praise unmix'd ? 
A miscellaneous rabble , who extoll 

Things vulgar, and well weigh'd , scarce worth the praise, 
They praise , and they admire they know not what , 
And know not whom , but as on(? leads th(> other; 



PREFATORY LETTER. 

And what delight to be by such extoU'd ; 

To live upon their tongues , and be their talk , 

Of whom to be dispraised were no small praise , 

His lot who dares be singularly good ? 

The intelligent among them , and the wise , 

Are few ; and glory scarce of few is raised. » 



One of the scourges of modern Literature is Periodical 
and mercenary Criticism. But I have , since the former 
part of this Letter was written , found something like an 
admission of my opinions even in one of the Critical 
Journals themselves , — (a very able and primary one in- 
deed, — ) the Quarterly Review for Dec. 1823. N.^ lviii. 

In an Article on Pulpit Eloquence , are the following 
passages , at p. 3o4. 

« The spirit of our Times affects what is vague , vast , 
indefinite ; exaggerated passion , vehement emotion , wild 
flights of imagination ; a language of perpetual tropes 
and figures , regardless of their congruitj or relation to 
the subject J or to each other. The Public Mind is loose 
and incoherent ; its element is restlessness and agitation. 
Feeling and genius are the catchwords of the day : hut the 
idea of feeling is mere excitation , without regard to any 
end of purification or improvement: genius, the running 
riot and creating a multitude of images , beautiful in them- 
selves , hut without order, object, or meaning. This is the 
tone of much of our popular poetry , — dreamy , mystical, 
with neither plan , nor system ; and criticism , the vassal 
slave of our poetry , has as noble a disdain of being in- 
telligible , as that which it pampers with u:iceasing adu-^ 
I at ion. w — 

It is time to lay down my pen ; — or I shall make 
my prefatory Letter as long as ray Book. 

Geneva, 10.*^^ March, 1824. 



G N O M I C A, 



'■^m-*-' 



CONTENTS. 



Prefatory Letter Page v 

Ch. I. Author's inirpose 1 

— If, Stron^feeling the only source of eloquence. 6 

— III. Early passion for poetry 11 

— IV. Speculative and practical wisdom, Pitt 

and Burke compared 15 

— V. Accidents 20 

— VI. Learning 22 

— VII. Genius 23 

— VIII. Abilities 33 

— IX. Heart 35 

— X. A great mind and great heart 37 

— XI. Time will destroy false pretensions 41 

— XII. Multiplication of Books 42 

— XIII. Birth, etc 43 

— XIV. Artifice in poetry censured 44 

— XV. Selfish and Public Concerns 45" 

— XVI. Quiet and Ease 46 

— XVII. Merit above Birth 46 

— XVIII. Exaggeration. Popular favour 47 

— XIX. Memory 51 

— XX. The Beaten Path 52 

— XXI. Succession of Authors 55 

■ — XXII. Dante , Milton , Tasso , Gray 55 



Ch. XX1I[. 

— XXIV. 

— XXV. 

— XXVI. 

— XXVII. 
^ XXVIII. 
^ XXIX. 

— XXX. 

— XXXI. 

— XXXII. 

— XXXIII. 
~ XXXIV. 

— XXXV. 
^ XXXVI. 

— XXXVII. 

— XXXVIII. 

~ XXXIX. 

~ XL. 

— XLI. 

— XLII. 

— XLIII. 

— XLIV. 

— XLV. 



XLVI. 
XLVII. 



Gnomica. 

Page 

Enjoyments are in the mind 57 

Improvement of age : extinction of 

powers by Death 59 

Retirement 61 

Vanity 62 

The desire of esteem and approbation. 64 

Gibbon 66 

Of the poetical character. . 68 

Birth combined with a competent 

fortune 71 

Mellowness of age id. 

Frailty of memory , 75 

TVordly cunning 76 

Vulgar taste » 78 

Paucity of the woj^ks of English poets. 80 

Common-place characters 81 

Knowlege of Moral Truth 82 

Mental preeminence the effect of cul- 
ture 86 

Inequality of destinies 88 

In what compositions an union of 

all the mental qualities is displayed. 89 

Knowlege comes too late 90 

Ubiquity and perpetuity of Gtnius. . . 92 

Regret for thepast. Serpentine wisdom^, ^^ 
Expansion of genius not overcome 

by adversity , or difficulties ^S 

Minute and scientific exactness of 
description of natural scenery^ not 
the most poetical. — Mischief of 

false theories 98 

Inequality of mental gifts 101 

Extrication from localities* 103 



Contents. xxvii 

Pa^c 
Ch. XLVIII. TJie bent of Nature bej'ond the domi- 
nion of accidents 103 

— XLIX. Addison , Dry den , Johnson. 104 

— L. On the charge that men of genius and 

high talents 'want judgment and prac- 
tical sense 105 

— LI. Active and passive wickedness 120 

— LIT. Innocent pleasures 121 

— LIII. Some fancies delight most in the images 

of artificial institutions 124 

— LIV^. Imperfect thinking is pairful^ and re- 

quires j^elieffrom the light of stronger 
. minds * 126 

— LV. « Woes cluster » 128 

— LVI- T//e development of Genius often acciden- 

tal and unexpected 129 

— LVII. Fame 131 

— LVIII. Does nobility in England spring from , 

or does it involve^ brilliant personal 
merit ? 133 

— LIX. The matter of literary composition more 

important than the workmanship. . . . 139 
' — LX. A clear view of our condition. Proper 

estimate of inches 140 

— LXI. Taste abundant compared with Genius : 

— but even Taste not general l43 

— LXII. The truth of theory not impeached by 

occasional instances of the erroneous 
conduct of its promulgators 144 

— LXIII. Knowlege of what men are ^ better fit' 

ted for success in the world , than 

of what they ought to be 147 

— LXIV. The same observations applied to litera- 

ture ... 149 



xKviii Gnomica. 

Page 

Ch, LXV. The guide of leading minds is neces-^ 

sary 150 

— LXVI. The Beaten Path the most happy. . . 151 
-*- LXVII. Opposition between the speculative and 

practical skill of Genius 153 

<— XL VIII. Honoursof Birth independent of Riches. 158 

— LXIX. Genius improperly defined to be a 

general capacity accidentally ap- 
plied 159 

•^— LXX, The value of independence 162 

— LXXI. Cunning and Selfishness 164 

— LXXII. Busy Novels 165 

• — LXXIII, In what manner a Poet should write 

his own Zjife 166 

— . LXXIV. Proper requisites of Tales of Fiction. 468 

■ — ■ LXXV. Duties of a Biographer 1T3 

<— LXXVI. Distinction between genuine and fic- 
titious enthusiasm 174 

— LXXVn, Traits and consequences of the en- 

thusiasm of Genius 189 

^— LXXVIII. Distinct sources of the different cha- 
racters in poetical composition tra- 
ced 184 

— - LXXIX. VFhat are just claims to public notice. 187 

— LXXX. Dangers of Imagination. , 189 

^ LXXXI. The Vision of Poetry 190 

•— L XXXII. Fixed principles of poetical taste in 

the Soul 192 

— LXXXIII. What are called the prejudices of a 

native sagacity^ are generally veri- 
fied by time 194 

«— LXXXIV. Successive ductility and firmness of 

highly "gifted minds, id. 



Ch. lxxxv. 

— LXXXVI. 

— LXXXVIF. 

^ Lxxxvin, 

— LXXXIX. 

— xc. 



— XCI. 

— XCII. 

— XCIII. 
-^ XGIV. 

— XCV; 

— XCVI. 

— XCVII. 



~ XGVIII. 

— XGIX. 

— G. 

— CI, 



Contents. xxix 

Page 
Opinions of unprincipled worldlings. 195 
^kenside^ and Didactic Poetry. . . . 197 
The proper criterions of original 

thinking 198 

The voice of the Multitude , not ihe 

test of merit 203 

What constitutes the value of Fancy. 204 
The purity . of the mind , and the 
rectitude of motive , determine the - 

merit of the action 207 

Belief in the general selfishness of 
Mankind destroys peace , and brings 

despondence 209 

Familiarity lessens the ugliness of . 
Evil ; — of which still the traits 
are certain , and cannot be mis- 
taken 211 

Anxiety for the future 213 

LiOve of Gain breaks all restraints 

but the iron bonds of Power 215 

The Neglected Poet ; (a poetical 

fragment.) 217 

A Poet must be exalted in his own 

private feeliiigs and habits 221 

The aggravated evils of that adver- 
sity, which is driven to seek com- 
fort in delusions 225 

Repetitions of opinions , Jiot alwaj s 

tautologies 227 

Gray's Travels 229 

Pictures of the penetralia of poetical 

minds ^ curious and instructive.. , . 231 
Just Invention 235 



XXX ' Gnomica. 

Page 

Cu. CII. Tests of originality 237 

— cm. Nobility may be made too numerous and 

common i 240 

— CIV. A day without a line ; {a Sonnet.) . . . 242 
. — C V. Speculation and action 243 

— CVI. Tebaldo ; a poetical fragment 246 

— CVII. The line of worldly success. — Use 

of hooks 256 

— CVIII. Sincerity in composition 260 

— CIX. Progress of Poetry 264 

— ex. Poetry , not an Art of words 265 

— CXI. Analysis of the faculties of poetical ge- 

nius. 267 

— CXII. Pursuits of Genius as virtuous and justi- 

fiable , as those of more active life . . 270 

— CXIII. Writings of Borrowers useless , cumber- 

some , and due to the fire 273 

— CXIV. Originality 275 

— CXV. Critique on two of Grays Odes 280 

— CXVI. Metaphysical Poetry 283 

— CXVII. True nature of Poetry 2S4 

— CXVIII. A good Fable is of primary necessity to 

constitute primary poetry 286 

— CXIX. Edward Phillips's Opinion of the Fable 

proper for an Heroic Poem 287 

r — CXX. The notice of what is great can seldom 

he new 290 

— CXXI. What is borrowed , need not be posi- 

tively new : but must be neither stale^ 

nor trifling 291 

•— CXXII. English Poets^ who have written prose. 292 

— CXXIII. Sonnet , i8 Nov. 1828 295 

— CXXIV. Beauties of Shakespeare , id. 



Contents. x>?xi 

Page 
Ch. CXXV. ISfotices of Collins , the Poet 299 

— CXXVI. Milton little admired by his cotem- 

poraries 302 

— CXXVII. On the thirtieth day of November , 

1823 306 

— CXXVm. To Lord Bacon, 2.1^ Aug, i823. ... 312 

— CXXIX. Popularity not indispensible to useful 

authorship - 313 

— CXXX. Remarks on certain passages in VFords- 

wortlis Prefaces to his Poems, re- 
garding Popularity 314 

— CXXXT. Objection to a particular position of 

Wordsworth regarding the purpose 
of poetry 

— CXXXII. Resolution and firmness necessary to 

render Genius effective 322 

— C XXXIII. Fame is empty : but the intrinsic plea~ 

sure of the legitimate occupations 
by which it is gained, is solid and 
durable 325 

— CXXXIV. On the difference between Classical 

Poetry , and liomantic Poetry , 
exemplified in Horace's Epode , ^^^-"^ 
« Beatus iJle , » and Milton's « II 
Penseroso. » 330 

— CXXXV. Conclusion 335 



G N O M I C A. 



CHAPTER I, 

23 March 1 823. 

1 HE desire to leave a memorial of oneself is 
generally, if not universally, implanted in Human 
Nature : 

« For who to dumb Forgetf alness a prey 
This pleasing anxious Being e'er resign'd ; 

Left the warm precincts of the genial day, 

Nor cast a longing lingering look behind ? » {^^ 

Some men spend their lives in action ; some 
in speculation : I have no events to tell , which 
can interest others : my days haVe past in soli- 
tary musing ; in the activity of the mind , — 
not of the body: and I have nothing but thoughts 
and sentiments to register. 

I will not fear ; because he who can only 
preserve the appearance of ability by manage- 
ment and resei've , must be conscious to himself 
that he wants ability : and if he feels this con- 

C) Gray's Elegy. 



2 GNOMICA. CH. 1. 

sciousness , what satisfaction can he derive from 
a credit given to him by the world for that 
which he knows he does not merit ? 

There is one charm in composition , without 
which all else is vain and lost; — the charm 
of writing naturally and frankly. (*) The fear 
of artificial rules, on which technical critics and 
authors so much insist , destroys all eloquence. 

It is the experience of a mind highly gifted 
and higly cultivated , which an author is anxious 
should not perish with him. The conclusions 
of his observation and reason , the permanent 
sentiments of his heart, at once enlighten our 
understandings , and excite our sympathies. The 
faculties of the head , the susceptibilities of the 
heart, belong not to the arbitrary distinctions 
of Society ; and are , for the most part , in- 
dependent of fortune , intrigue , or adversity. 
They were common to Surry and Sackville ; and 
to Rousseau and Burns. 

It is useless to know the plausible things a 
man can say, unless we know the convictions 
of his bosom. We cannot surrender our con- 
fidence, except to him whom we find free from 
ostentation and disguise. 



(*) Gray also expresses this opinion in his advice to 
ISichoUs : and Muller expresses it strongly in his early and 
eloquent Letters to Bonstetten. 



GNOMTCA. CH. I. 3 

Even of the small proportion of authors , who 
aspire to orginality, nine tenths draw from no 
other fountain than Memory, They exert their 
toils to recollect what will appear most inge- 
nious and most striking ; and dress it up in 
tinsel language for the purpose of obtaining an 
hollow and meretricious fame. 

Tinnit: inane est. 

We soon turn from such things with disgust ; 
and seek out some other empty novelty, itself 
to be deserted in endless succession ! — 

Solid truth , conveyed in clear and forcible 
expression, can alone attract permanent regard. 
And we then search it , not in derivative autho- 
rities , but in those from whom it sprung. A 
great deal , which appears obvious when put 
into words , is often missed by those who seek 
it in far-fetched subtleties. What have we since, 
which comes so home to our bosoms , as that 
which is to be found in BACo?f's Moral Essays , 
which were first published before the death of 
Q. Elizabeth? 

The opinions of the multitude fluctuate with 
every age and fashion : the opinions of Litera- 
ture and Genius only are consistent and durable. 
We appeal to them from the blind , arrogant, 
and cruel caprices , or the selfish or factious 
misrepresentations, of temporary popularity; from 



4 GNOBIICA CH, T. 

the insolence of vulgar clamour ; or the derision 
of confident ignorance! 

There is nothing more erratic than the freaks 
of the mere understanding: systems after systems, 
have been built up by sole argumentative pro-. 
cesses , to be destroyed again by succeeding 
discoveries ; while the taste and tests of excel- 
lence of the productions of the fancy and the 
heart are always the same , — subject only tQ 
the momentary delusions of fashionable folly. 

Without fancy , all is particular , narrow , and 
personal ; confined to circumstances , many of 
them accidental ; — yielding no general lesson ; 
and uninteresting beyond s^lf. Fancy , unlimited 
by time or place ; soaring beyond mere matter ; 
and having her treasures ^nd objects always 
present at her commixnd , can compare and 
combine as she will : her stores wait her bid-^ 
ding ; change their place at her nod ; and em- 
body themselves into whatever individual shapes 
she chooses to contemplate. 

It cannot be pretended that these recorded 
authorities of what is wise and true, are not 
wanting. They are to be founj in books ; — 
but they are not to be found in the coarse 
modes of thinking of practical mankind; which 
pften ^iTiake the wisdom of Books appear ob- 
solete , unless their lights }>e renewed , and 
their flames stirred from the ashes in which they 
gre buried, 



GNOMIGA. CH. I. 5 

It may be said , that in the multitude of 
Books , and the multitude of Minds which pro-^ 
duced them , authority may be found for any 
absurd opinions ! — But to offer an authority 
for an opinion , merely because it is to be found 
in Books , is the act of a fool. To give it weight, 
the hand of acknowledged Genius and Virtue is 
requisite. — 

It is probable that practical men have as little 
inclination, as they have leisure, for any conside- 
rations or enquiries that the calls of each succes- 
sive business, in which they are engaged, do not 
impose on them. They think all beyond these, 
superogatory : - they deem them airy notions ^ 
in which it is idleness to be occupied. When a 
man's experience is confined to his own actions , 
it may be said in general that the busiest of 
Human Beings is but a countless cypher. 

What are the active parts of the lives of Dante 
and Petrarch ? Buried in oblivion : or if known , 
insignificant compared with the actions of innu- 
merable men of common character ! — That part, 
and only that ^ which has ubiquity and immate- 
riaUty , has made them the heirs of universal 
fame ! — 

If the writings of these splendid luminaries 
did not exist, many historical facts would induce 
us to believe that the Centuries in which they 
lived were ages of ferocity and barbarism. But 



6 GIVOMICA. CH. I. 

from these, a reflecting mind will doubt that such 
ages were as much inferior in refinement and 
wisdom to ours, as modern assumption delights 
to suppose and represent them. 

Collision of intellect among the living contri- 
butes to extensive and deep judgments : — but 
when the collision embraces all the eminent of 
departed times , how much more comprehensive 
must be the comparison and the conflict of 
materials and faculties! 



CHAPTER 11. 

24 March, 1823. 

cr Quiconque a une ame energique , un esprit rempU 
d'idees claires , d'images vives et justes, parle et ecrit 
bien tout nalurellement » , Muller. 

I know of but one source of good writing : — 
to think and feel justly and forcibly ! All that has 
other origin , is hollow and tinsel ornament. But 
who can think justly and forcibly , who has not 
vivacity of fancy; any more than feel strongly, who 
has not susceptibility of heart ? They , who study 
not the substance of the thought , but only its 
expression , are comparative triflers ; like those 
persons in real life whose whole merit lies in their 
exterior manners. 



G?^OMICA. CH. II. -J? 

Whatever represents things in false colours J 
to whatever we cannot turn in our sober mo- 
ments , when sorrow and reflection have made 
us wise, ought to be rejected as neither a deep 
nor genuine product of genius. The heart will 
never approve what is wTong ; nor what is artifi- 
cial , or capricious : the fancy soon tires of all but 
truth* They who have not within them the deli-* 
cate mirror which reflects the real forms of 
things , are only moved by representations of 
monsters and extravagances. The scenery of this 
material world ; the native grandeur and tender- 
ness, or wildness, of our thoughts and emotions, 
are sufficient to satisfy the active faculties of the 
most gifted Beings. There is no uniformity of 
taste in what is out of the course of l^ature : no 
two ages think alike in such aberrations: change 
and novelty are the essence of their charm; and 
therefore no author, who has gained distinction 
by such means, ever preserves long the notice 
he has attracted. 

No false thoughts are to be found in any of the 
ancient Classics^ who have been handed down to 
us as the favourites of successive centuries. They 
never deal in exaggerated images, and impossible 
combinations : the moral truths they deliver are 
the truths of all manners , places , and ages ; 
such as pervade our general nature , and regulate 
the universal principles of human conduct. Those 



8 CNOMICA. CH. Hi 

factitious enthusiasms, which philosophy and calm 
reason reject , are unknown to them : and all the 
tenor of their sentiments and reflections conf rms 
itself to that regulated and temperate experience^ 
in which the science of morality is nurtured and 
Hpened. 

To soften our affections 5 to balance good and 
evil; to contrast the innocent delights with the 
sufferings and misfortunes of life ; not to magnify 
human frailties , but to pity and forgive them ; 
especially when set off by redeeming virtues; — 
these are not the graces merely^ but the substance^ 
of the ingredients necessary to the works which 
aspire to immortality in the departments of senti- 
ment and fancy* 

All sorts of excesses in every thing intellectual 
or material are followed by satiety and disgust : 
it is the inevitable property of our nature. The 
effect of disgust is ineffacible ; at least when it 
arises from bookSi We never recur to the work^ 
from which we have experienced this effect. Our 
greatest poets have been great philosophers ; and 
many of them excellent writers in prose as well 
as poetry. They deal in truths ^ which ^ though in 
another form , would afford equal matter for their 
philosophical works. Thus Gray's poems are 
nloral philosophy, vivified by poetical feeling, 
and poetical illustration. All their splendor is the 
native splendor of the sun of genius : — it invi- 



GNOMICA. CH. II. g 

gorates; — not exhauts! It expands those tender 
emotions of the heart , which want nurture , into 
flowers and fruit. These Poems call up no forced 
raptures ; but compose our thoughts ; and warn 
us against those false hopes and ambitions , 
which will not endure the calm hour of medita- 
tion, and the « still small voice » of conscience. 

I doubt if any temptations of popularity would 
draw a genius of the higher classes into those 
overwrought fictions and coloiirings , in which 
secondary abilities so much indulge^ It is a sort 
of hot-bed temperament , in which the former 
cannot breathe : like the fresh fragrant flowers of 
the fields and woods , which put forth their bril- 
hant but chaste colours , and exhale their odours^ 
to the free air ; but sicken and die , when shut 
up in the close heated apartments of Man; 

It requires so much knowlege , observation ,- 
reflection, reasoning, and judgment, as well as 
imagination and sensibility , to unite moral truth 
\vith all the charms of poetry , that the rarity of 
these united merits cannot be a matter of just 
wonder. 

It is easy to collect a farrago of gaudy images ,- 
outre sentiments , or glittering language : these 
require only a ready memory, and a continued 
application of particular labour. They do not de- 
mand even one of the primary faculties of the mind 
or heart. And when all their purpose is effected, 



lO GNOMIC A. CH. It. 

they have not added one atom to human know- 
lege; nor one virtuous emotion to the human 
bosom. 

For what do we Uve; and whereby can we 
redeem the frailties , to which poor mortaUty is 
subject? — By the good we do to others 1 — - And 
how can we do more good, than by enhghtening 
the moral understanding ; and awakening into 
life the seeds of virtue buried in the bosom of 
man ? 

But the tinsel versifier, and the dealer in extra- 
vagant fiction, must not aspire to the honour of 
being among these benefactors ! They only tickle 
the ears , and agitate the dull intellects, of those 
who are out of the reach of good from literature; 
but who are open to its abuses and poisons. 

Books are now multiplied to engross the misap- 
plied energies, to confirm the errors , and to in- 
flame the passionate views, of the great mass of a 
people who want the leisure and independence, 
if not the abilities, to search deep, and judge 
coolly. Where pretended wisdom is in fashion, 
the unobtrusive voice of the real Sage is drowned 
in the clamours of noisy arrogance. 

There is however a delight in the pursuit of 
what it becomes us to know; in the study of our 
moral nature, and the tendencies of our affec- 
tions; of the employments which it is good to 
follow; of the pleasures, which are innocent,. 



GNOMICA. CH. III. 11 

and the discipline which is necessary. — In all 
these there is an intrinsic gratification , which is 
its own reward. 



CHAPTER IIL 

Poetry, 



25 March 182S. 



I cannot tell , how early I took up the passion 
for poetry. It could not have been later than my 
fourteenth year. I can hardly think it to have 
been accidental : I presume it to have owed its 
attraction to its coincidence with the warmth and 
colouring of my mind. I found a more cordial 
sympathy with the images and sentiments de- 
lineated in the pages , and expressed in the 
language, of poets, than of prose-writers. But long 
before poets unfolded to me the beauties of na- 
ture, its scenery impressed itself poetically on my 
mind. Almost all my childish amusements were 
in the open air ; in the fields and woods : and the 
various aspects of morning, noon, and evening 
were connected with every favourite occupation. 
I had an eagerness and energy in all my pleasures, 
which in infancy can scarcely be expected to be 
under the controul of reason : for , alas ! that 
eagerness and energy have been too little dis- 
ciplined and moderated even by age 1 



(|3 GNOMIGA. CH. Ill, 

When I began to pay attention to books, those 
of which the manner was most glowing, of course 
most attracted me. I looked for imagery and sen-^ 
timent ; not for cold methodical reasoning ; nor 
for those dry facts, or abstract precepts, that 
represented nothing of the emotion with which I 
mixed myself in every concern, 

That intensity of pleasure, with which the early 
senses are moved in those to whom nature has 
given great susceptibility, is the spring of poetry: 
■ — but the gift is dangerous ; for it requires the 
most skilful regulation; and constant and cons^ 
cientious controul. It is not till it mingles itself 
with the operations of the understanding , and 
those moral affections which emanate from the 
heart , that it becomes beneficial or amiable to 
others ; or unbalanced by exhausture , regret , 
and disgust , even to self. — 

If reason will not make a poet , reason must 
come in aid , to discriminate , methodise , and 
direct. But the exact and seasonable application 
of reason is so difficult , that it almost always 
begins too early or too late. He who calls the 
chill breath of reason to suppress the fire before 
it has got its enduring strength , will probably 
entirely extinguish it: he who summons it late, will 
pot call in its aid , till the flame is unmanageable. 

The temperament of a Poet , however , even 
when prudently and wisely managed , is not Xhe 



i 



ClfOMICA. GH. Ill, 1 3 

temperament of happiness in this coarse world : 
though Sarasa (*) seems to think it may be made 
so. Our quick feehngs , rendered more acute by. 
refinement, are, even when under the controul 
of virtue , perpetually exposed to irresistible sor-^ 
rows and pains. An anxious conscience is never 
satisfied with itself. Possession never equals our 
hopes: and, if at any period we are contented 
with our own lot , we cannot see any of those 
around us unhappy without sympathy with their 
sufferings , or perhaps an afflicting suspicion 
that we might have averted their misery. 

This sensitiveness belongs to all great poets : — -• 
it has its source in the fountain whence Poetry- 
flows. It is the grand feature of Dante and of 
Petrarch: it is the very essence of the golden vein 
of poetry of our own pathetic , moral, and inimi^ 
table Gray. 

When Poetry is considered as a trifling art , it 
arises from viewing it as it is exhibited in the 
compositions of versifiers , or witlings ; or of 
those who prostitute their gaudy genius to raise 
extravagant wonders. « Truth is » always , « suffi- 
cient to fill the jnind , » even when it seeks to 
exercise the highest flights of fancy. The business 



(*) See Sarasa, Ars semper Gaudendiy Jena, 1740, 4.® 
Also Wolff, Vhilosophia M o rails , 17 5o, il^i , Halle, 
3 vols 4.° 



f4 GNOMICA. CH. III. 

of genuine poetry is, not to represent the caprices 
of an individual imagination , but to embody the 
forms that visit more or less distinctly every sen- 
sitive and moral intellect. This, as every one 
knows , is Shakespeare's idea of poetry : and thus 
Gray says , 

fc Yet oft before his infant eyes v^ ould run 
Such forms as glitter in the Muse's rays 
With orient hues unborrow'd of the Sun. » 

It is into Poetry that we must look for the 
happiest and most eloquent illustrations of moral 
truths ; for the sentiments that warm the heart ; 
for the wisdom that animates while it instructs. 

He , to whose mind this outward shape of 
things, this scene of the material world, offers 
nothing but for analysis and calculation , is defi^ 
cient in that property which raises us highest in 
the scale of mortal Beings; that which repre- 
sents reflectively within us , by visionary types ,, 
the grandeur and beauty of the Creation. 

Yet even this mighty power would be com- 
paratively degraded , were it only a representa-f 
tion of these material forms existing externally, 
These images of matter become thus associated 
with the more elevated treasures springing from 
the internal operations of the Soul, ("") 

(*) The French Translators in their Notes to Goethe's 



GNOMICA. CH. lYi 



S 



CHAPTER IV. 

Practical Wisdom. 

26 March ^ 1823. 

There is a great desire in the world to make a 
distinction between speculative and practical wis* 
dom. There is no foundation for it: — what is 

Hommes Celehres tie France au dix-huitieme Steele , Paris, 
1823, 8.° — have expressed lliemselves well on what they 
deem the characteristics of French poetry : and which are 
certainly the characteristics of genuine poetry. 

« Si la poesie consiste comme nous le pensons, non dans 
le merveilleuse , mais dans les images , un peuple , qui ^ 
par le caractere de son esprit , n'a d'attrait que pour les 
realites , peut pretendre encOre aux couronnes poetiques. 
Qu'on examine les ecrits des grands hommes dont s'honore 
tiotre litterature, on verra que dans leurs ouvrages les 
beautes vraiment Jrancaises sont toujours puisees ou dans 
ces touehantes realites du coeur , les sentiments et les pas- 
sions , ou dans ces nobles realites de I'esprit , les grandes 
idees de politique , de morale , ou de philosophic ; en un 
mot , dans la peinture fidele de ce qui nous environne , 
Ou de ce qui lious eprouvons en nous-meiiies. » p. 261. 

« La Muse Francaise , que le vrai seul inspire , n'en 
marche pas raoins I'egale de ses soeurs , et n'a point a se 
plaindre de son partage. » p. 263. 

The Editors however add another characteristic of the 
French , not quite so consistent with true poetry. 

« Les Auteurs Allemands ont beaucoup cherche a exciter 
la terreur par des recits d'apparitions nocturnes. » etc. 

« Jamais ce genre ne prendra parmi les Francais : en 
France on est trop moqueur , et trop raisonneur. » p. aSy. 



i6 GPfOMICA. CH. iv. 

not practically true , cannot be speculatively true^ 
The error may be partly attributed to a confusion 
of the truth with the execution of the truth. 
They whose opinions and designs are wise, are not 
always skilful or resolute in putting those opinions 
and designs into action. The hand that executes 
best , seldom belongs to him who plans best. 
And not only unskilfulness of hand , but want of 
composure and self dominion , may disable one 
from the personal application of what his under- 
standing dictates. 

This disunion between theory and conduct is 
so very common , that as it has been found that 
they who have been powerful in speculation , 
have so very frequently shewn themselves foolish 
in life , the discredit has spread from the specu- 
lator to the speculation : and because profound 
thinkers have done weak things , it has been sup- 
posed that their thoughts , however specious y 
W^ere not just. 

But such inferences are confuted by the whole 
history of mankind. They are indeed inferences 
favoured by , if not springing from , the wishes 
of those who entertain them. They gratify the 
love of degradation, which belongs to the mean 
hearts of inferior intellects. But is the wisdom of 
Bacon's Moral Writings ^ is the force and justice 
of any of his speculative opinions, to be called in 
question, because his conduct was sometimes 
jnore imbecile than that of ordinary men ? 



G?ro3iiCA. CH. iv; i^ 

But if the fruit of intellect is thus improperly- 
brought into doubt , it is not less observable , 
that men of practical dexterity generally get 
credit for talents which do not belong to them : 
— not indeed because the judgment is wrong , 
which is supposed to be just ; — but because 
that which is the mere application of what is 
already prepared, and which is required to be 
no more, — is assumed to originate from the 
mind of him who applies it. 

Providence has ordained that very humble 
abilities should be sufficient to direct the mass 
of those , wdio carry on the routine of human 
affairs. They go in the beaten channel, and move 
with the stream. 

There is, indeed, an immense series of grada- 
tions in those who are borrowers. Some few rise 
to the highest rank of secondary talents , from 
the extended treasures out of which they draw 
their applications; from the readiness and hap- 
piness wdth which they apply them ; and fi^om 
the vivacity and merit of their expression and 
manner. Yet if it be believed , as it too often is , 
that men of these gifts and acquirements , who 
thus become qualified to make a figure on the 
theatre of active society , are equally endowed 
by nature to attain distinction as speculative 
authors , there exist strong reasons to shew that 
this belief is not accurate, 

3 



1 8 GNOMICA. CH. IVi 

The merit of what the understanding supplies 
in practical life does not depend upon its origi* 
nahty , or its universahty ; but on its adaptation 
to the occasion-. In the best C') hooks nothing is 
temporary , or particular : the merit depends on 
no extrinsic circumstances ^ no accidental com- 
binations ; ail must be essence ; and therefore 
it can place no pretensions on convenience of 
time or place , nor confer any honour except on 
the fountain-head. 

I can scarcely recollect a single generalisation, 
in all the splendid speeches of M/ Pitt. He pri- 
ded himself upon profundity of judgment ; upon 
expedience ; upon a prudent and sagacious ma- 
nagement of all the circumstances of the moment* 
It cannot be denied that in these respects he was 
a great and illustrious Statesman. (^*) On the? 



(*) It need not be said, that books of compilation are 
here excluded : these are like shops , where articles of 
manufacture are placed for the convenience of sale ; and 
which can claim no participation in the ingenuity of the 
manufacturer. 

(**) He had other extraordinary qualities besides these: ■^^' 
a great fortitude and decision of mind ; — a command 
of language, at once lofty, and yet clear and popular: — 
an eminently lucid arrangement of his ideas ; and a sono- 
rous voice. To these was added a disinterested and sublime 
love of glory ; and a total exemption from the entangle^ 
ment of all petty pursuits and passions. 



GNOMICA. CH. IV. 1 9 

contrary , the speeches of Burke , whom nature 
intended for a literary genius , abound every 
where in such generalisations : all their matter 
extends beyond the occasion ; and forms the 
principle , by which all similar subjects may be 
equally enlightened. It is true , that for the par- 
ticular purpose this abundant wealth was some- 
times cvimbersome; it dazzled the understandings 
which it was intended to instruct ; and it ex- 
hausted the feeble attention which it was applied 
to excite. Burke therefore furnished one of the 
instances of that deficiency of practical prudence, 
which is sometimes united to consummate specu^ 
lative wisdom. 

It need not therefore be denied that Pitt's 
talents were altogether better adapted to execute 
the functions of Ministerial Government , than 
those of Burke. {^) 

To attempt to enter into the radical distinc- 
tions in the mental powers of these two very 
eminent men , may be perilous. I am , however 

(*) Pitt entered so early into public life , that he had 
00 leisure to search deeply into the pursuits of literature. 
But if he had , it does not seem to me that he would 
have attained the same eminence in literature , as in the 
conduct of State-Affairs. I think that if originality of 
thinking , and generalisation , had been among his native 
gifts, they would have shewn themselves more in his 
Speeches. 



2Q GNOMIGA. GH. V. 

Strongly persuaded that the difference is to be 
attributed to Pitt's defect of fancy. Without 
fancy, a man may be able and wise in his rea- 
sonings and judgments on what is actually pre- 
sented to him ; but he has no materials on which 
he can exercise his mind in speculative matters • 
The faculty, which peoples solitude, and gives 
life and action to a contemplative retreat , is 
wanting. If Pitt had but a sterile fancy , he had 
still less sentiment. His powers, mighty as they 
were , were the powers of understanding and 
memory. These he had in magnificent propor- 
tions; and they were so readily at his command , 
and so severely exercised from childhood , that 
for that which his understanding offered , hi^ 
memory always supplied him with perspicuous 
and adequate language; so that all his concep- 
tions were set off to the best advantage ; and he 
became a master, not only of his own ideas , but 
of all he heard from others. He habitually profited 
by the more painful labours of other intellects : 
he « gathered the honey , which the bees had 
made for themselves. » (^) 

CHAPTER V. 

Accidents, 
Many accidental circumstances concur in brin- 
ging forward , or obstructing native endowmentSj 

(*) Sic vos non \obis mellificatis , apes ? — 



GNOMTCA. CH. V. 1 1 

as well as in giving a bent to the course they 
pursue. Education , station , health , locality , 
prosperity or misfortune , society , profession , 
employment, conduct of friends, and all the 
varieties of life both active and contemplative, 
must necessarily operate both in the trains of 
ideas habitually indulged , and in the colours 
given to them. But they need not operate to 
alter the truth of the ideas, which are thus acci- 
dentally caused to predominate in an individual : 
they only operate in directing the choice of them. 
It may however be remarked, that nature is 
still so very predominant, that any or all of 
these accidents have far less influence than would 
be supposed. The mental character bestowed at 
the birth still breaks out under all disadvantages, 
and in defiance of the pressure of all controuling 
circumstances. Burns is a modern and striking 
instance of this assertion. It may be true that the 
very humbleness of his birth augmented rather 
than depressed the vigour of some of his qualities; 
but it necessarily impeded the force of others. 
When the body is wearied and borne down by 
severe daily labour , and unprovided even with 
the necessaries of life , how mighty must be the 
intellectual spirit, which can still throw off the 
incumbent weight; ancj interest its heart, and 
busy its brain , with the airy visions and senti- 
ments of brilliant and tender imagination! 



a 2 GNOMICA. CH. VI. 

Theoretically, those outward circumstances, 
which are calculated to produce ease of mind, 
would seem propitious to the developement of 
the fruits of genius. Facts appear to teach us a 
different lesson. Spenser could not have enjoyed 
ease of mind , when he wrote the Faery Queen ; 
nor Milton when he was composing Paradise 
lost ! 

Perhaps the faculties may require to be kept 
in great commotion , to enable them to attain 
their due energies. 



CHAPTER VI. 

Learning:, 

Learning is one of the accidents to Genius, 
without which it is scarcely possible that its pro- 
ductions can reach any high excellence. It will 
be said that Shakespeare had it not. But if it be 
admitted that this immortal dramatist had not 
the technicalities of learning , he surely had its 
substance: — he was profoundly versed in the 
history of mankind ; of their characters ; and of 
the events which arose out of those characters : 
his observations of life must have been gathered 
from multifarious experience , and innumerable 
memorials , written and traditional. 



GNOMIC A. CH. VII* a J 

CHAPTER VIL 

GeniuSi 

Whether a man has acted through Hfe pru- 
dently and with wordly wisdom , or with a want 
of worldly sense ; — whether his judgment has 
been erroneous , or he has suffered his passions 
to overrule his judgment ; — he must be tried j 
if he be an author , by the truth and merit of 
what he has written, abstracted from all influence 
of the course of his conduct and actions; — 

The admission of this principle would tend to 
diminish very considerably the value 'and interest 
of an Author's biography. At the same time it is 
quite impossible, actually, so to detach ourselves 
from all operation of an Author's character and 
history. There is an irrepressible curiosity^ inhe- 
rent in our natures, regarding those to whom we 
have resorted either for mental instruction or 
mental entertainment* This has been amusingly 
described in the outset of the Spectator* -^ 

But it is much more important to develop the 
internal movements ^ and gradual progress , of 
the mind* 

Some have doubted , whether Mankind are 
not born with equal intellectual capacity ; and 
whether the future difference does not arise from 
Culture, or accidental impulse. It would be a 



24 GNOMICA. CH. VII. 

waste of time to refute seriously an opinion sd 
absurd , and so demonstrably falsified by a com- 
mon attention to the diversity in the earliest 
appearances even of half a dozen children. 

The minds endowed with mirrors which receive 
external impressions with clearness and vivacity , 
and reflect them with exactness ^ probably give 
much earlier appearances of brilliance, than thosd 
of which the more fervid receptacles amalgamate 
such impressions instantly with their own stores; 
and recombine and reconvert them into new 
shapes. In one case the receptacle is passive : iri 
the other ^ active. In the latter case , there are 
more complex operations to perform , in which , 
perhaps , a temporary confusion may precede 
distinctness. 

But it must be observed , that in calling the 
mind in the former case passive , it is necessary 
to understand the word with much qualification. 
It is only comparatively passive. The Fancy does 
not seem ever to be an exact mirror. It always 
rejects ,' if it does not add. It may be said , that 
this is the gradual effect of culture and discipline. 
But the fancy of poets, which is the strongest 
fancy , always exercises this choice ; — and this 
is a faculty, which displays itself not less power- 
fully, — often more powerfully, — in early 
youth. 

Hence it seems that even the purest and. 



GNOMICA.. CH. VII. 2 5 

simplest fancy undergoes some intellectual in- 
fluence and controul. Whether the receptive 
faculty of impression is ever at the same time 
strong and indiscriminate, may be questioned. 
It is probable, that the same feebleness of powers, 
which causes the impression to be weak, causes 
it to be without selection or prominence of fea- 
tures. 

Another proof that the Fancy is not entirely 
passive is this : that on two different minds the 
same objects do not merely impress themselves 
with different degrees of force , but with a selec- 
tion of different circumstances; or unequal de- 
grees of prominence of the same circumstances: 
which must be attributed to a difference in the 
character of the other powers of the mind opera- 
ting on the selection. — 

It must not , however , be supposed ^ that , 
because nature lays the ground-work , and bes- 
tows all the sources of intellectual preeminence, 
therefore nothing depends on cultivation, ma- 
nagement , personal exertion , or even accident. 
There is yet more of native power than philo- 
sophers are apt to admit, even in that which 
seems to involve an high degree of Art. That 
Pope Avas a poet of great labour and great tech- 
nical skill , will be denied by no one : and among 
his compositions , his Essay on Criticism is one 
in which, from its very essence, these ingredients 

4 



^6 GNOMICA. CH. Ylli 

are strongly exerted. But upon this poem Johnson 
Justly observes , a one of the greatest , though of 
» his earliest works, is the « Essay on Criticism, » 
» which , if he had written nothing else , would 
» have -placed him among the first critics and the 
» first poets, » etc. — « / know not , whether it be 
» pleasing to consider that he produced this piece 
y> at twenty, and never afterwards excelled it : —^ 
» he that delights himself with observing that 
J) such powers may be soon attained, cannot but 
» grieve to think that life was ever at a stand, » (*) 

There are some classes of poetical composition^ 
to which we may suppose the fervour of youth 
best adapted : but a didactic poem on Criticism 
seemed of all others most to require mature 
knowlege , and long practice in nice and refined 
thinking. 

All the original results of the human mind , 
which display themselves in the higher depart- 
ments of literary composition , are , in truth , 
the fruits of complex powers, and complex exer- 
tions. We must not therefore decide one period 
of life to be more propitious to the production of 
particular works than another , because it is 
more propitious to the development of a single 
faculty. In youth hope is more glowing ; ambi- 
tion is more ardent; and toil is more vigorous* 

(*) Life of Pope, w. 35;* 



I 



GNOMICA. CH. Vir. 2^ 

Rnowlege therefore goes farther ; imagination is 
more active ; and makes a better use of her stores; 
and eloquence effects what study and toil cannot 
reach. 

If Fancy were the mere result of a strong im- 
pression on the material organs, it would surely 
be always more lively in youth. But it cannot be 
doubted that the intellect and the heart have 
some concern in this impression : and the intel- 
lect continues to ripen at least till middle age, 
which also renders the emotions of the heart 
more mellow y if not more deep. 

Let the native understanding be as acute as it 
will, it can seldom collect all the materials ne- 
cessary for its operations without the lapse of a 
long course of years. The most valuable knowlege 
for works of genius , as well as for works of 
instruction, is moral knowlege. But without ex- 
perience, without long, attentive, and matured 
observation of life , our moral knowlege must ba 
faint , imperfect , and uncertain. 

These considerations fill me with a firm con- 
viction, that even works of pure fancy, of the 
highest order, cannot be produced but by a con^ 
currence of endowments and acquirements , of 
which the union is extremely rare, 

Every great poet, who has stood the test of 
ages , has had , in addition to a bright fancy 
and a powerful invention, a strong and com^ 



2 8 GNOMICA. CH. VII. 

manding reason, and an intuitive sagacity, im- 
proved enriched and controuled by a Jong con- 
tinued and accurate observation of human Hfe. 
Mere wild , wanton , undirected , unenhghtened 
imagination is unworthy the subhmer ambition 
of rational Beings. Yet if it be but imagination , 
however absurd , extravagant , and monstrous , 
modern taste and modern judgment seem resol- 
ved to pronounce it true poetry, flowing from true 
genius. 

A high degree of uninformed, unregulated, 
fancy and imagination exists very strongly in 
madmen , and even in fools, 

In « those flights of imagination which pass the 
bounds of nature , » the great poet may well in- 
dulge : but they must have that sort of probabi- 
Uty , of which the belief is consonant to the un- 
forced excursions of the human mind. The mighty 
genius <.(- delights to sport in the wide regions of 
» possibility : reality is a scene too narrow for 
yy him. » But still it must be possibility , — or 
wh^t is deemed possibility. It must be in the 
direction to which the general mind tends, 
though it may go farther than others: — it must 
not be hi a bye-path, of which the whole novelty 
and interest lies in the deviation. 

It is a consciousness of weakness, a fear of 
inability to excell where others contend , that 
seduces into these bye-paths. What engages the 



GNOMICA. CH. VII. 29 

thoughts and feehngs of others, it requires supe- 
rior strength to represent better than others. 
Kovelty of objects has an attraction extraneous 
to the power of the painter. 

But the constant occupation in the pursuit of 
Truth, under its appearances of magnificence, 
tenderness, and beauty, requires the acutest 
talents , and sharpens and refines the noblest. Is 
it nothing to carry the lamp into the inmost 
recesses of the temple of the heart, and unveil 
their secrets to the curious eye ? Imagination 
supplies the light; and identifying herself with 
the keys which open every avenue , moves as a 
spirit through all the labyrinths , Avhich encircle 
the inmost shrine where the fountain of the 
soul springs up ! — 

These are inventions , these are discoveries , 
far grander than building baby-houses of glitte- 
ring toys , and combining heterogenious mate- 
rials into surprising monsters. 

There is, in following out such studies, a con- 
stant exercise of all the faculties of the mind. 
Learning observation, memory, judgment are 
all in incessant request. A profound skill in moral 
knowlege cannot be acquired without a Avide 
experience, long and deep researches into history, 
an accurate perception , and a nice comparison. 
To these must be added a taste for the grand and 
the beautiful ; a clear fancy ; and a sensitive 



3o . GNOMICA. CH. VII. 

heart. What grand effort in poetry can he made 
without these ? Without this knowlege , how can 
characters be invented with due regard to the 
probabihties of human passion and human rea- 
son ? Johnson properly says , oithe great, business 
of the human mind is the religious and moral 
knowlege oj right and wrong: the next is an 
acquaintance with the history of mankind^ and 
with those examples which may he said to embody 
truth ^ and prove by events the reasonableness of 
opinions. » — « Those authors therefore are to be 
ready that supply most axioms of prudence ^ most 
principles of moral truth y and most materials for 
conversation : and these purposes are best served 
by poets , orators ^ and historians. (^^ But unless 
the poets be of the quahty I describe , how vainly 
would such matter be sought among their pages? 
— Is it to be found in that which is furnished 
by the crazy invention of impossible Beings ? 
by exhibiting purity and refinement in untutored 
barbarism ; and tenderness , generosity , gran- 
deur , and wisdom in ferocity , sensuality , and 
wickedness ? 

That, which fills the imagination merely with 
wonder , let it be as splendid as it will , conveys 
but a short-lived pleasure, It is necessary to satisfy 
the understanding, and to gain the fiat of the> 

'*) Life of Milton, 



GlVOMICA. CH. VII. 3 1 

heart, as well as to strike the imagination. That, 
to which we cannot satisfactorily and profitably 
recur at moments of sober reflection , when 
vanity has ceased, and the trying realities of life 
have tanght us to be sage , is but a showy and 
surfeiting bauble. It is from wisdom and truth 
that we seek for consolation : delusions nauseate : 
we AA ant no exaggerations of false passion , and 
false brilliance : our own heated perceptions have 
already magnified objects too much: we want 
the charm of the Sage , that dissipates these 
unreal rays : not the dangerous spell of the evil 
Magician, that augments them! — 

False beauties are always changing; — change 
is their essence : Truth is constant and eternal. 
Time tries it ; and brings it out : as fire separates 
the genuine ore from the dross. The most bril* 
liant passages of Shakespeare , Milton, Spenser, 
Dryden , Pope , and Gray , are as true as they 
are brilliant. They are most of them as applicable 
to life , as they are to the visionary and abstract 
pleasures of the mind. 

All apologies for deviations in poetry from 
that which sound wisdom can approve, drawn 
from the plea that they are but a poet's dream , 
or a poet's fiction, are the hollow apologies of 
impertinent vulgarity and ignorance. Truth is as 
much the business of the poet , as of the philo- 
sopher , though he conveys it in a different 



3*2 GNOMICA. CH. VII. 

dress , and seeks to produce conviction by a 
different path. 

It is admitted, that the human imagination has 
a perpetual tendency to aberrations; to distem- 
pered ideas ; to distorted or exaggerated Hghts : 
but it is not the business of the real poet to fostet 
and perpetuate these : — on the contrary, he 
ought to give all his efforts to correct and super^ 
sede them. He may win a short popularity by 
indulging and encouraging them , because we 
delight to have a seeming justification of our 
faults: but his gain is the wages of meanness and 
corruption ; it is at the expence of his integrity 
and virtue. 

If the mere power of representing strongly an 
image strongly impressed on the mind be suffi- 
cient to entitle one to the merit of a great poet, 
without regard to the character of the image 
represented, it must be owned that a powerful 
picture of any distempered or erroneous vision 
or passion, which has dominion over the mind, is 
first-rate poetry. 

The understanding corrects the wrong impres- 
sions of the Senses ; and controuls the over- 
wrought colourings of Passion. Without the super- 
intend ance of reason , Imagination is like a ship 
at the mercy of the winds and waves , without a 
pilot or a rudder. Beattie says of his Hermit^ that 

« He thought as a sage; but he felt as a jnanh 



GNOMIC A. CH. VIII. 35 

It is in the blended result of these two 
operations of the mind , that perfect poetry 



consists. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Abilities. 

The faculty of clearly conceiving the thoughts 
of others; of preserving them in the memory; 
and of redelivering them with perspicuity , and 
even elegance , is bestowed by Providence not 
sparingly. To this degree of intellectual endow- 
ment is applied the term , abilities ; in contra- 
distinction to genius ; which is the susceptibility 
of original and powerful impression; and when 
it is of the highest degree , has the additional 
faculty of new combination. 

The fame , which is acquired by such abilities 
is seldom brilliant or lasting: their use depends 
on readiness of appljing what is the production 
of others. The merit therefore ceases with the 
occasion. Whenever another application becomes 
necessary , resort will again be had to the ori- 
ginal ; and not to the copy. 

IS^ineteen twentieths at least of all literary pro- 
ductions are of this secondary nature. They soon 
therefore sink into oblivion , as they are super- 



34 GNOMICA. CH. VIII. 

ceded by those which new occasions call forth. 
Temporary historians , poUticians , moraUsts ; 
poets, novehsts, wits, flutter into life under the 
factitious heat of the rays of fashion , and die 
again like butterflies. 

feut eten of this large portion who want origi- 
nality , a small pairt only possess the power of 
accurately conceiving , and justly applying. The 
majority have only a capacious memory encum- 
bered with stores of confused thoughts, which 
for the watit of discrimination and judgment 
rather mislead than benefit. — 

The greater number of our modern compila- 
tions of miscellaneous literature afford only an 
idle stir of memory , without offering any food 
for the understanding , the heart , or the fancy. 
Thousands of dry, fruitless, minutia3 are heaped 
together; and we are called on to fill our heads 
with trifles which pall the attention , and with- 
draw us from that love of books , of which to 
diminish the interest is to rob us of one of the 
most virtuous charms of life. 

Whatever confounds in the public opinion 
genius and solid learning with such empty pre- 
tensions, is a deep and extensive evil. The esteem 
and respect of authorship has long been decli- 
ning ; and is now almost extinct. The meanest 
capacity , and the most vulgar acquirements, may 
suffice to make a mechanical author: and in these 



GNOMICA. CH. IX. 35 

days thousands of mechanical authors, no better 
endowed , start forth , and make a bustle in the 
world. When such men are seen in the characters 
of authors , their want of consequence is conta- 
gious , and spreads to literature itself. 



CHAPTER IX. 

The Heart. 

It is not sufficient for just eminence that au- 
thors should have the power of thinking inge- 
niously : they ought also to think both rightly , 
and nobly. That light conviction , which uplajs 
round the heady* but does not touch the heart, is 
not to be trusted. It sits too superficially ; and is 
sometimes transient ; and often easily suspended. 

It seems indeed as if the mere reason is not 
adequately operative of itself ; and that a convic- 
tion , before it be deeply fixed , requires the 
approval of that intuitive sense which appears to 
be intimately connected with the heart. Whether 
it be in original thought, or in that which is 
derivative , the fiat of the heart alone gives that 
sincerity, which is strong enough to impel to 
action. 

Mere ingenuity : -— nay , mere splendor^ of 
genius wandering in wrong paths , never yet left 



36 GNOMIC A. CH. iX. 

behind it fruits , which retained the esteem of 
posterity. 

The internal facuhy of the heart , which is 
active in some, and only a passive susceptibility 
in others , is a gift of nature. It presides over 
the judgment ; and aids or opposes it according 
to the bent of its operations. 

Nothing is of genuine and perfect sublimity or' 
grandeur, which has not something in it of pathos: 
and nothing can have proper and real pathos, 
which is false. Above all, it must have truth, if 
it regards morals ! — 

And here it may be asked , « what is moral 
truth ? » Religion , natural as well as revealed , 
tells it us : a regard to the happiness of our fellow- 
beings tells it us : a regard to our own happiness 
tells it us : a regard to the dignity of our nature 
tells it us : the sympathies or aversions of our 
hearts tell it us. 

Those impressions , which in our moments of 
sober rellectiqn , when our evil passions are pas- 
sed away, do not retain the same character, and 
do not receive the consentaneous emotions of the 
bosom , are not morally true. 

It may be safely observed , that no writer, 
whose thoughts and sentiments the experience 
of mankind has found to be incorrect , — much 
less which the experience of mankind has dis- 
proved — has retained his seat in the temple of 



GJfOMICA. CH. X. 3^ 

Fame. All the moral matter, which forms the 
basis of the works of HomtT, Yirgil, Cicero, etc. 
has been proved to be the deepest and most 
accurate, at which mere human wisdom could 
arrive. 

These is a factitious or momentary enthusiasm , 
under which those who labour, may feel gratified 
by exaggerated representations consonant to their 
own prevailing temperament : but a more general 
and enlarged taste dissipates or rejects these par- 
tial colourings. Calm musing and sedate conside- 
ration break the clouds of error, and strip de- 
lusive coruscations of their brilliance. That, which 
vanishes before prolonged reflection , is of little 
value. 



CHAPTER X. 

A great mind , and great heart. 

I ISov. 1822. 

All is vain and worthless, but a great mind, 
and a great heart. — But what is a great mind 
and a great heart ? It will be proper to examine , 
explain, illustrate, and discuss, before we attempt 
to define ! But we may assert , that a great mind 
and a great heart are formed of a compound of 
the highest sorts of capacity, enriched by feeling , 
and directed by virtue. — 



38 GNOMICA. CH. X. 

Solitude is the field of contemplation; and, 
consequently , of the employment of our noblest 
faculties. Events therefore, and the actiye parts 
of the life of a man of genius, if any part of it has 
been active , are of comparative insignificance. 
Y^t the Public likes incident better than specu- 
lation ; and has little taste for observation and 
reflection, except v^hen it is attached to action. 
It is difficult therefore to make any biography 
interesting to the common reader, which is not 
stored with incident. 

A large part of what passes in society is mere 
insipid, useless, momentary ceremony: it springs 
put of a confused chaos of ideas ; and , as it was 
imperfect in its birth , it ends in abortion. 

A great mind is controuled in society by the 
coarseness and dulness of vulgar characters. In 
solitude it has 

(c Ample room , and verge enough , 
The characters ofn soul « to trace, » 

At the same time an occasional mixture with 
the bustle and conflicts of human Beings is useful 
and instructive. 

There is no birth , or rank , or wealth , that 
can supply those primary qualities of the mind, or 
heart, which give the aristocracy of ]N[ature. Un- 
fortunately the possessors of this high preemi- 



GNOMICA. CH. X. 89 

rience do not commonly know its value , till too 
late in life. They do not 

(nKnow their own worth; and reverence the Ijre.y) 

The consequence is , that they do not steadily 
follow their own propensities with a dignified 
calmness and satisfaction. 

Without the advantages of fortune , or at least, 
independence, it is indeed not very practicable to 
pursue those abstracted and unmercenary occu- 
pations , which supply no means of subsistence : 
but for which the Public Patronage ought , 
( though it seldom performs this duty , ) to fur- 
nish rewards. 

The lots of our existence are strangely, and 
mysteriously cast. To our imperfect perceptions 
they often appear contradictory and perverse. It 
is not easy to support dignity of mind under 
poverty and meanness of condition. Mean 
thoughts and sentiments are too often inherited 
from mean parentage. But not always : the ge- 
nuine and lofty spirit surmounts them ; — wit- 
ness Burns! 

To embody the fine visions of the mind ; and 
to render them capable of being communicated 
and circulated : what is this but to add to the 
highest species of human riches ? But taste will 
not do this : memory will not do it : powers of 



4o GNOMICA. CH. X. 

reasoning will not do it ! — It requires not only 
quick perception, and deep sensibility; but vivid 
fancy , and plastic imagination. 

It is true, that it may be decreed that many 
should pass through this state of Being in a course 
of mere negative innocence; doing neither good, 
nor harm. We are ignorant of the inscrutable 
purposes, for which Providence may so design it. 
Such persons may enjoy life , though they may 
not have the ability to define , or the power to 
communicate, their pleasures. External objects 
may fill them with admiration , or gentle thril- 
lings , in proportion as they are grand or beau- 
tiful. But such pleasures die as quick as they 
come ; leaving no trace behind them , after their 
leparture. 

The love of distinction for what is intrinsically 
excellent , is a generous and lofty ambition ; a 
desire which all great minds feel. To pass through 
life in obscurity is a fate, to which they cannot 
reconcile themselves : but obscurity is not the 
necessary effect of solitude ; they can teach or 
delight from the shades: their voice can be heard 
from the deepest woods. 



GNOMICA. CH. XI. 4^ 

CHAPTER XL 

Time will destroy false pretensions , 

26 Bee. 1822. 

Concealment and disgnise Avoiild be vain, were 
they desired. All false pretensions must cease by 
the calm and nnprejudiced scrutiny of Time. 
Ability and inclination will be fonnd to discrimi- 
nate, and weigh with truth and justice , all the 
separate or combined qualities which a litera :y 
production exhibits ; or which an author gives 
proof of having possessed. 

Art may often for a moment cover over defects 
and weaknesses with factitious and plausible 
hghts : but these will disappear before cool and 
attentive examination. Thus secondary authors 
often conceal penury or vulgarity of thought and 
of knowlege by the artifices of style. The eye and 
the ear may be caught : but the understanding 
will soon correct the delusion. 

That which depends, not upon the thing said, 
but upon the skill in saying it, is of very 
transient interest. — 



42 GWOMICA. CH. XII» 

CHAPTER XIL 

Multiplication of Books. 

16 Dec. 1822. 

If there be no end of multiplying books which 
; i but a repetition of what has been already put 
into print , that which comes from the pen of him 
who not only thinks for himself, but thinks vigo- 
rously and justly, may yet be useful, meritorious, 
and even necessary. 

Those faculties , which enable us to think 
rightly and to feel rightly , and adequately to 
communicate our thoughts and sentiments, on 
questions Avhich have not hitherto been duly 
decided and explained , are not very common. 
Or they are so seldom brought into fruit by 
proper culture , that the rarity of their occur- 
rence must add much to their value , whenever 
they are worked to maturity. 

That which is taken at second hand , has scar* 
cely more than a technical use. Passive knowlege 
may be beneficial to the possessor; that which is 
active is alone important to the Public. — 

It is not true, that all that can be Avisely said, 
has been said before : — even a new mode of 
saying it may perhaps elicit a new truth. — 

But copies can never be equal to what is ori- 
ginal : they have always the inferiority of com- 
parative faintness. — 



GNOMrCA. CFI. XIII. 4^ 

CHAPTER XIII. 

'Birth , etc. 

25 Feb. 1823. 

The Public for the most part considers birth and 
titles as trifles unbecoming the serious attention 
of a sound and enlarged mind. They seem to me 
to have their value : though , where a value is 
put upon them , it is seldom placed upon its true 
foundation. I do not think that they can make 
amends for deficiencies, moral or mental: on 
the contrary, they seem to me to create an addi- 
tional demand for them. They ought to act both 
as incitements and ornaments: first, to generate 
a noble emulation ; and afterwards to crown 
that , to which they have given origin. 

He , who possesses this distinction , is less 
tempted to sacrifice elevated and unmercenary 
occupations to the pursuit of wealth. 

I presume therefore that the regard to splendid 
birth , which has been entertained by all nations 
in all ages, is built upon deep and accurate moral 
wisdom. 

A due consciousness of illustrious descent 
ought to be a perpetual talisman , and a perpetual 
impulse. It ought at once to be a spur to rival 
the past, and a memento of responsibility for the 
conduct of succeeding generations: it ought to 



44 GNOMICA. CH. XIV. 

bring with it the constant recollection that the 
possessor's posterity may thus inherit the dispo- 
sition to pursue glory rather tlian selfish gains! — 
It may be said, that this possession (or preten- 
sion or accident, if the objector chooses so to call 
it , ) often fails to produce these good effects. 
Are we then to argue from the abuse of a gift ? 
Is not wealth also as often abused ? It may be 
urged that the wealth which a spendthrift throws 
away , another receives. But does it not often 
corrupt the receiver , as well as the spender ? 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Artifice in Poetry censured. 

a3 Dec. 1822. 

Wherever there is an atternpt to supply the 
want of native fancy or native sentiment by 
Art J the effect is sure to shew itself in a straining 
'Axev false beauties ! — 

Art therefore seems always mistaken in the 
proper aim ; in the proper objects of resem- 
blance. 

Imagination is not sufficient, unless the imagi- 
nation be just: unless it have poetical proba- 
bility. — 

Almost all false poetry is a mistake of the proper 
duties and proper objects of imagination. 

Genius may not succeed perfectly without the 



GNOMICA, CH. XV. 45 

addition of Art : but Art can do nothing without 
Genius. 

What is the cause of that lameness of expres- 
sion , as well as crudeness of thought , into 
which so many of the old minor poets fall , after 
having kept themselves on the wing for a little 
while ? — It is false fire. 

There was a good deal of affectation in the 
sonnet-writers of Q. Elizabeth's reign — such as 
Constable, B allies, Gabriel Han>ej, Watson, eic. — 
Nor were the pastoral songs of that sera, except 
very rarely, without a good deal of quaintness. 

The French school of poetry , which succeeded 
the Italian, approached more to the poetry of the 
understanding and reason. 

The Poets of Ch. ^'s time wanted both fancy 
and sentiment. — But most of them had a lively 
and acute intellect. , 

There may be fancy without sentiment : — but 
seldom sentiment without fancy. The fancy must 
first present the image, before occasion is given 
for the sentiment. 

CHAPTER XV. 

Selfish and public concerns. 

3 1 Oct. 1822. 

Between too much and too little anxiety for 
private and selfish concerns, the line of demar- 
cation is exceedingly difficult to be traced. 



46 GIfOMICA. CH. XVI. XVII. 

Then comes the question , who is of use be^ 
yond himself and those immediately connected 
with him ? 

Are authors of use? And what sorts of authors? 

Dealers in Imagery ; Sentiment; Observation; 
Reflection ; Reasoning ! — 

CHAPTER XVL 

Quiet and Ease. 

What is there in life worth having, but quiet 
and ease of mind ? 

Nature has implanted in us the desire to be 
spoken and thought Avell of. — 

If we can prove that our occupations have been 
innocent and virtuous; — still more , if useful to 
the Public , — shall we silently bear malignant 
misrepresentations of our conduct and habits? 

To exhibit rectitude and elevation of thought, 
is a merit which Ought to conciliate affection and 
esteem. True views of life lead to satisfaction , 
and to virtue. 



CHAPTER XVII, 

Merit above Birth. 

What can a man say of himself, but that he has 
led a life , which he would not lead again , could 
life be renewed ? — Experience teaches him his 
errors too late. 



GNOMICA. CH. XVIII. 47 

All vanity and disguise are mean and unavai- 
ling. A man must stand or fall by his own real 
and intrinsic strength or weakness. 

The power of thinking and feeling forcibly and 
justly, and of communicating those mipressions 
to others , is a praiseworthy distinction. 

Why should a man rely on birth ? Milton and 
Gray were sons of Scriveners ; Colhns , — of a 
Hatter; Akenside and Rirke White — of Butchers ; 

— Chatterton, — of a Parish Clerk ; — Shenstone, 

— of a farmer ; — Beattie , and Burns , — of pea- 
sants; — ^ Pope, — of a linen-draper — Prior,— 
of a tavern-keeper ! — - 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Exaggeration. Popular Jafour. 

28 Jan. 1823. 

The habit of exaggeration adopted by those 
who write for the mob , and for temporary pur- 
poses , is very disgusting , and very mischievous. 

The astill small voicey) of reason , wisdom, or 
taste, is never heard amid these clamours; which 
are, (to use Burke's beautiful simile,) the noise 
of the grasshopper filling the air with its incessant 
chirps, while the Ox is chewing the cud in silence, 
under the shade of the British oak* 



4S GNOMICA. CH. XVIII. 

All is calculated to exite transient attention on 
topics, on which the passions of the multitude 
are alive : — which topics are in a little while 
as much forgot, as if they had never been raised. 
— If we then turn back to them , the very 
people, who for the moment were most heated 
by them , wonder most how they could ever 
have found any interest in them. This is an incon- 
trovertible proof, that all their claims to notice 
were factitious. — 

How very few of the Articles in the**^, which 
at the moment of publication caught every reader, 
possess any longer the smallest zest! — If they 
had intrinsic value ; if they were written with 
sober and solid wisdom , this could hardly be 
the case. It is hence to be inferred , that there is 
nothing original j or nothing just , in the fonde 
of them : and that all their claim to attention 
lay in the application of the matter to some ephe- 
meral topic. — 

They are seldom the originators of abstract 
truths ; of novelty in generalization ; of a new 
tint of the mind arrested , and cloathed in lan- 
guage ; of a new , striking , elegant , and just , 
form of words : 

iiWhatoftiVas thought; but ne'er so well express' d^ii 

( as Pope says. ) 

All is catching, but hollow: — plausible at 



GNOMIC A.. CH. XVTII. 49 

first, but not capable of enduring the assay. It 
is (njineer work » : and when it is pierced , you 
soojn get beyond what is solid and genuine. 

It IS nowhere sincere : but all for momentary 
effect. It has the ingenuity of the head : but has 
not been sanctioned by the approval of the heart. 

The results of a calm , philosophical , and eco- 
nomised judgment alone caji continue ala^ajs to 
be standards of opinion. 

Ask one of these Reviewers in private what he 
thinks of a large portion of the works . which he 
has lauded to the skies : he will shake his head ; 
and cry «poor stuff! — mediocrity ! — absurdity! 
— corrupt tinsel!)) etc. — but he will add, that 
adventitious circumstances rendered it an object 
of paramount policy to impress to the utmost the 
credit of the author, or of his work, on the public 
mind ! 

But just in proportion as these adventitious 
circumstances have lifted an author and his works 
into temporary distinction, they are both left to 
their own worthlessness, as soon as these causes 
have ceased. 

Those versatile talents most able to take ad- 
vantage of occasion, are only fitted for occasion: 
they must swim with the stream; and fly with the 
wind : they can make no way by themselves. 
They can give no nev/ impulses to the mind : nor 
be resorted to, as the fountains of new opinions; 

7 



5o GNOMICA. CH. XVIII. 

of which the justice causes the future admissioti 
to be the consequence of the discovery. 

Nothing is of much value, which does not 
continue to please , after a repetition of perusals* 

All the talent, understanding, art, discipline, 
labour , upon earth , will not supply the original 
want of fancy ; and want of that internal sensi- 
bility which springs irom the heart. It may judge 
with perfect rectitude of that which is the produc- 
tion of these endowments: but it cannot originate 
such productions. The origination must issue 
from the picture which the fancy presents , and 
the emotion raised by the picture so presented. 
It is by this that the poet is enabled 

cc To snatch a grace bejond the reach of Art. » 

The persons who think and feel for themselves , 
are more rare than even the most severe suppose. 

Opinions on important subjects are , for the 
most part, made up of so many complexities, 
and nice particles of ingredients, so subtle as to 
escape the power of language to point out , — 
that weight of authority will go , and ought to 
go , a great way in procuring assent. 

The habit of writing as an advocate , and not 
as a Judge , is destructive to the soundness and 
consistency of opinion* 

If often happens that men , who are not skilful 



GNOMIC A. CH. XIX. 5 1 

and clear arguers , come by native intuition and 
sagacity to just and solid conclusions : — and in 
this way men of poetical genius arrive, by the aid 
of the lights of imagination and feeling, at the 
conviction of the deepest truths. 

An adroit logician often abuses his faculty ; 
and misleads by the most wilful and vile sophi- 
stries. 

Unsought touches proceed from Genius, which 
the Artist vainly attempts to emulate. 

Enthusiasm and Sincerity are indispensible 
attendants of Genius. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

Memory. 



25 B^c, 1822. 



Memory is not an original power of the mind : 
it is the duration of any act or impression , of 
any power of the mind : — whether it be an im- 
pression of fancy, or imagination , or sentiment, 
or reason ; or mere conception or intelligence. 

If the merit of a work of fancy is to consist in 
the exactness of the representation , not only 
must the receptacle of the original impression 
have been clear and brilliant ; but the memory of 
it must have endured in full force at the moment 
employed in creating the reflection of it. 



52 GNCMICA. CH. XX. 

But a brilliant fancy generally unites to itself 
something of the faculty of imagination; and this 
last faculty supplies, perhaps heightens, whatever 
is lost by the memory. 

How Fancy and Memory can be confounded as 
the same powers , is to me very astonishing! 

Each , they say , is the revival of something in 
its absence. But fancy is not the act of revival : 
fancy is one of the things revived. Fancy has no 
reference to time : fancy is not a substitute : it is 
an original. 

When we say that fools have long memories, 
the memory is only of the impressions of such 
trifles as they are capable of receiving. 



CHAPTER XX. 

The Beaten Path. 

lo Jan. 1821. 

In working up one's way thro' the difficulties 
of Life, the effects of long and patient perseve- 
rance are beyond the power of prospective esti- 
mate to appreciate. I make this reflection , after 
a night of anxious thought, and of feverish and 
tormenting perplexity of internal discussion. 

But it is not possible to calculate precisely and 
duly the effects even of the past perseverance , 
without laborious and strict examination, and 
without full and comprehensive data before one ! 



* GT^rOMTCA. CH. XX. 53 

I have puzzled myself with conjectures , till 
every nerve became distracted ; and after all, 
only to end in false hope, or false fear ! 

In the arrogance of flighty and soaring expec- 
tation , a young man of active and ardent intel- 
lect enters the forest of Life in the confidence 
of being able to explore and penetrate paths of 
his own , without regarding the beaten track, or 
resting on the labours and experience of others. 
He is sure to be a victim both to self-delusion ; 
and to the artifices of those who are interested in 
leading him astray. 

Him who keeps in the beaten path , no one 
attempts to disturb. He goes on safely v/ithout 
talent , or skill , or knowlege , or vigilance. He 
might be misled by conjectures, and probabili- 
ties, and arguments , and assertions : T\iq beaten 
track is a plain fact , visible to the eye ; which 
no one can mistake. 

Another source of error in the calculation of a 
Theorist, is the assumption that Mankind are 
governed by reason ; and that that, of which it 
can be proved that it ought to be , will be ! — 

It is not so ! Mankind are not governed by 
reason ! It is all interest , and prejudice ; and 
rivalry , and conflict , and intrigue ! 

Optimists will say, that the greater liability to fai- 
lure, to which talents are exposed, the more it is as 
it should be! That it brings those, to whom nature 



54 GIVOMICA. CH. XX. 

has been niggardly in intellectual gifts , upon a 
level with their superiors! 

I know that it is impossible to convince a large 
portion of the world, that a person can really pos- 
sess great and sound abilities , unless he has pro- 
ved himself practically prudent and sldlful. 

But 1 have endeavoured to shew , that the best 
chance of going what the world calls right , is 
^f^to follow the leadtr. » ■ — It will not be denied , 
that even an ideot can do this ! 

« Of what avail then , » it may be said , « are 
abilities , if they will not enable a man to direct 
himself right ?» It might as well be asked (to 
apply a ludicrous illustration ) of what use is a 
taylor who makes a suit of cloathes well for ano- 
ther person , if he makes a suit for himself 
which fits him badly? 

As we descend into the vale of Life , we are 
apt more to value those gratifications which are 
called substantial ; and less , those , which are 
called imaginary. This is strange ! — as we ap- 
proach nearer to the world oi Spirits , we become 
more enamoured of the Material! Riches then 
begin to take a new estimation in our eyes : and 
we are all for solid enjoyment! But wealth also 
is found to be empty and pleasureless with 
many who have possessed it from youth to age: 
they would willingly barter much of it for what 
most of those, who possess it, find «a bubble » 



GNOMICA. CH. XXI. XXII. 55 

when attained ; for fame, rank, and distinction! — 
while they who thus find them «a bubble, » think 
themselves ilUrepaid for the sacrifices they have 
made to acquire them. — 



CHAPTER XXI. 

Succession of Authors. 



1822* 



The country, that ceases to produce authors, 
ceases to cultivate literature. They are the im- 
pelling oars, that keep the bark in motion. New 
circumstances, — even the demand of novelty and 
freshness of language and manner, — require a per- 
petual renewal of writers. No age is stationary : 
if it is upon the decline , authors are wanted to 
lessen the rapidity of the decline : if it is advan- 
cing, authors are wanting , to keep pace with the 
rapidity of the advance. 



CHAPTER XXn. 

Dante , Milton , Tasso , Gray* 

When we read the allusions of Dante, Milton, 
or Tasso, to their worldly misfortunes, how our 
souls alternately tremble and swell ! 



56 GNOMICA. CH. XXIL 

The writings of such men open to us , as it 
were , the oracles o^ a superior state of intelli- 
gence ! li is as if v/e were beholding a brilliant 
sky with its illumined clouds , and saw nothing 
but shapes of fantastic splendor : — and while 
we were long and steadily gazing , a magician 
should supply us with a glass, by which those 
shapes should at once take precise and legible 
forme ; and disclose to us some revelation of 
Angels! — The grand ideas, which these inspired 
poets open to us , might without them have dis- 
played themselves to our eyes in their fantastic 
shapes ; but these are the magicians , who give 
them legible and intelligible forms! 

All the grandeur of the visible and invisible 
world is a confused assemblage of lights , which 
it is left to the labour of human genius to develop, 
arrange, and bring into shape. To this high 
calling all poetical endowment continually feels 
itself impelled. It is an exercise , of which the 
neglect causes the soul to fall into languor and 
sickness. Of that languor and sickness Gray is a 
striking illustration. Fogs huddled up the flame 
of his mind ; and it bred humours and gangrened ; 
— and he died! 

How was Dante employed ? Dwelling on the 
perturbed actions of his early life ] and venting 
his bitter but sublime indignation in sounds 
which will never cease to echo on the wings of 



GNOMICA. CH. XXIII. 5^ 

the winds ! How was Milton employed ? In dis- 
missing the memory of proscription and ingrati- 
tude for active services of State ; — in alleviating 
the privations of blindness by busying himself 
with the War of Angels, and the Garden of Eden! 



CHAPTER XXni. 

Enjoyments are in the mind. 

1822. 

It is a cold and blind opinion that we cannot 
make the world of our enjoyment in a great mea- 
sure , what we choose to make it. It is the mind, 
■which creates the noblest and liveliest part of 
the enjoyment : and the mind is under our dis- 
cipline, and at our command. The materials for 
its operation can never be exhausted , and its 
capacity of new combinations is endless. 

As life advances, the intellectual powers be- 
come more diversified , the vague ideas of youth 
become more precise ; and a sagacious knowlege 
of mankind contrasts happily with the warmer 
pictures of the fancy and the imagination. We 
throw off all peculiarities, not only personal, but 
of station or time ; — - all local and national 
habits ; and think and feel as citizens of all the 
civilized globe : — as belonging to the past and 
the future, as well as to the present: and equally 
interested in the history of intellect and morals^ 

8 



58 GNOMICA. CH. XXIII* 

If we suppose a mode of invention , a delinea- 
tion of character, a tone of sentiment, a form 
of expression and style , peculiar to a single 
country , — ( and experience proves that we may 
suppose it, — ) all the sound principles of criti- 
cism shew that it must be wrong. The reverse of 
this is equally true, both as to extent of time and 
place. 

Johnson speaking of the test of time says : « To 
works , of which the excellence is not absolute 
and definite; hut gradual and comparative ; to 
works not raised upon principles demonstrative 
and scientific , but appealing wholly to observation 
and experience , Jio other test can be applied than 
length of duration , and continuance of esteem. 
What mankind have long possessed, they have 
often examined and compared; and if they persist 
to value the possession, it is because frequent com" 
parisons have confirmed opinion in its favour. The 
reverence due to writings that have long subsisted, 
is therefore the consequence of the acknowledged 
and indubitable positions , that what has been 
longest known has been most considered; and 
what is most considered is best understood. » 

Had we the age of Methusalem , we could not 
live long enough to muster all the moral know- 
lege, that History, illuminated by Fancy and 
Imagination , offers. We could not live long 
enough to master the good books necessary for 



GNOMICA. CH. XXIV. 69 

this purpose , which Europe has produced only 
since the Revival of Learning. The extreme igno- 
rance of modern superficiality and prejudice sup- 
poses that these were barharous ages. This cannot 
be justly said even of the three centuries which 
preceded what is thus called the Hewi^al of 
Learning, The manners and compositions of the 
Troubadours are a sufficient refutation of this silly 
calumny. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

Improvement of Age : Extinction of powers hy Death, 

1822. 

As the powers of the mind expand and streng- 
then , the sources of happiness greatly increase. 
The eager desire of knowlege , when it exists in 
youth , is baffled by a feebleness of capacity , and 
languor of attention, that sickens and at last sa- 
tiates by the daily experience of renewed hope 
ending in disappointment. 

As the faculties have become matured , and 
have gained by a long course of exercise a facility 
of execution which leads to the accomplishment 
of what they undertake , they find a certainty of 
gratification in their labours , which carries them 
on without abatement of energy , or weariness of 
effort. 



6o GNOMICA. CH. XXIV. 

The mind feels no joy so great as the conscious- 
ness of its own power , and nothing more morti- 
fying than that of its own impotence. The age 
therefore of a cultivated mind is often more com- 
placent , and even more luxurious , than the 
youth. It is the reward of the due use of the en- 
dowments bestowed by nature: while they, who 
in youth have made no provision for age , are 
left like an unsheltered tree, stripped of its leaves 
and its branches , shaking and withering before 
the cold blasts of winter, 

In truth , nothing is so happy to itself and so 
attractive to others , as a genuine and ripened 
imagination , that knows its own powers , and 
throws forth its treasures with frankness and 
fearlessness. The more it produces , the more 
capable it becomes of production; the creative 
faculty grows by indulgence; and the more it 
combines , the more means and varieties of com- 
bination it discovers, 

When Death comes to destroy that mysterious 
and magical union of capacities and acquirements 
which has brought a noble genius to this point 
of power , how frightful and lamentable is the 
effect of the stroke , that stops the current which 
was wont to put this mighty formation into 
activity ! Perhaps the incomprehensible Spirit 
may have acted in conjunction with its corporeal 



GNOMICA. CH. XXV. 6 1 

adherents to the last ! Then in one moment what 
darkness and destruction follows a single gasp 
of breath! — 



CHAPTER XXV, 

Retirement. 

Though Retirement is necessary to cherish 
those seeds of great genius or great knowlege , 
w^hich nature sometimes confers , yet it requires 
nice judgment and unbending discipline to ma-^ 
nage this retirement rightly. It is subject to a 
thousand dangers and destructive misuses. 

It often encourages us into a fatal over-estimate 
of ourselves, from want of the opportunity of 
comparison ; and this is followed by disappoint- 
ment , bitterness , and misanthropy , because 
others do not award to us the same portion of 
merit or power. 

It often brings on languor, and even torpor, 
from want of the presence of the stimulant of 
competition, 

All however which is lost in idle company , 
beyond that which is absolutely necessary for 
recreation , is positively pernicious. It breeds 
idle passions; it fosters prejudices; it debilitates; 
it degrades. 



62 GNOMICA. CH. XXVI. 

It happens that the greater part of the Uves of 
most of the great geniuses of the world has been 
an active hfe. Change and variety give a vigour 
to the ideas , and freshen their colours. 

When Grief takes possession of the mind, 
nothing is so conducive to the disease as Retire^ 
ment. 



CHAPTER XXYL 

Vanity, 

Of all the Passions , Vanity is that, of which 
the gratifications are least , and the rewards most 
at the mercy and caprice of others. It is founded 
on a deception ; and a deception , which , being 
apparent , immediately provokes its own defeat. 

To seek distinctions for those merits , which 
we are conscious belong to us, is a different 
thing. This may be Ostentation: it is not Vanity: 
sometimes it arises from a better motive than 
Ostentation. It may be sought as a more satisfac- 
tory test of that desert , which we believe that 
we possess. 

To be satisfied with ourselves , seems to be an 
almost universal desire , implanted in us by Pro- 
vidence for some good purpose : this feeling 
appears to be absolutely necessary for that com- 
placence , without which there can be no enjoy- 
ment , nor sense of respectabiUty, 



GNOMICA. CH. XXVI. 63 

The confidence , that arises from the calm 
consciousness of just pretension , discourages 
Envy, and drives her from her aim , to scatter 
her arrows in the air : — she throws away her 
quiver; and becomes as servile as she before was 
fierce and insolent. 

He , who has real qualities of preeminence of 
an high kind, may so apply them, by the aid of 
prudent management , as to obtain all the advan- 
tage over the world to which they entitle him. 
In truth , high talents , highly cultivated , may 
be almost victorious over sickness , and many of 
the human misfortunes that most touch the heart. 

But this cannot be without virtue ; without 
fortitude, and incessant discipline of the feelings; 
v/ithout judgment; without an entire elevation 
above the vanities of the world. 

To see men possessed of talents to win the 
applause of the wise , wasting their time and 
energies in seeking the admiring gaze of Folly, 
and the shouts of the senseless Mob, fills one 
with a mixture of pity and indignation. 

Heaven in its mercy has bounded the views 
of those , whose capacities are only fitted to exe- 
cute the duties of a narrow sphere , to limits 
equally narrow. They think only of Self, and 
those immediately connected with Self; and sup- 
pose all to be idle waste of toil , which concerns 
itself with any thing beyond. « My business is 



64 GNOMICA. CH. XXVlt. 

» with my o(^n affairs , » they cry : « that is suffi- 
» cientfor me, without meddling with others ! Let 
» others do the same : and then all will he well! » 
That extended reflection which places its own 
happiness and consequence on the welfare or 
improvement it confers on others , is to them 
incomprehensible ! 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

T/ie desire of esteem and approbation i 



[822. 



It is an irreversible inherent in our nature, 
to desire the good opinion of others; and to be 
soothed by their concurrence in our sorrows. 
This creates an impulse , that seldom fails to vent 
itself in an appeal, by which it may be gratified. 

But this is not true of our sorrows only: we 
wish to make the world converts to us in all our 
opinions; and when we feel that we have suffi- 
cient strength in us , we are not satisfied without 
bringing them to the test of the public judgment. 

The experiment is often perilous; and many 
learn by the trial how much they have over- 
estimated themselves. When, in the process of 
putting into execution the object of their ambi- 
tious desires they find their strength fail them , 



GNOMICA. CH. XXVir. 



65 



they are apt to resort to artifice to give them a 
false appearance of power : but affectation is the 
herald of weakness ; and precipates their fall. 

Conscious power is always direct: an author 
does not resort to the trick of covering his 
thoughts with false splendor, till he at least sus- 
pects that the thoughts have not force enough 
to maintain themselves. He , who is fall of the 
thought itself, will not waste his time and labour 
upon superfluous ornament. 

But young authors of doubtful genius are al- 
most always affected. If strength grows with 
their years , they throw it off : otherwise they 
continue affected through life. 

The fear and delicacy of a youthful mind , 
even where there is strength , often makes him 
shrink from venturing his own genuine opinions. 

He is apt to suppose that something more re- 
condite , and far fetched , is necessary ; and is 
afraid to rely on the simple tints of truth. Expe, 
rience gradually shews him , that what springs 
naturally in the mind , is equally acceptable 
to all. 



66 GWOMICA. CH. XXVIII. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Gibboji. 



1822. 



Gibbon, as he perceived his gigantic v^ork 
growing beneath his hands , must have felt a 
mighty swell of triumph. 

To have digested , and arranged into lucid 
order , the recondite materials of such an extent 
of time and place , — what an Herculean task ! 
What a proof of the effects of steadiness , calm- 
ness , and perseverance ! 

His talents and labours indeed bore little simi- 
litude to those of a poet. His business was rather 
in sifting , criticising , clearing away , and recom- 
bining upon a more compressed and more con- 
venient plan^ than in creating, supplying senti- 
ment , enriching with wide speculation , or pre- 
senting imaginative and brightly - coloured pic- 
tures. It must be confessed , that there is a vast 
preponderance of mechanism in his work : and 
therefore that the long and continued perusal 
becomes wearisome. We are always travelling 
over a plain : the inequality of mountains and 
vallies never comes to relieve us : or it is rather 
like a canal , for which human labour has pierced 
heights and profundities ; and brought all to a 
strait line , and a level surface. 



GJYOMICA. CH. XXYIII. 67 

When the poet arranges and combmes, he also 
creates part of his materials ; and embodies aerial 
essences. If therefore his work accumulates to 
sufficient size , he beholds an edifice raised at 
his call , neiv not only in foim but in matter. 

But if the difficulty ended with creation > it 
might still be comparatively easy. Mere novelty 
of matter will not do , unless the matter be of 
a certain excellence of quality. Mere whim may 
mix up new ingredients , of Avhich it may con- 
stitute a fantastic building. To use Johnson's test, 
not only must the ideas of a poetical edifice « he 
neiv, » but they must be so conformable to the 
general sympathy of the human bosom , that 
a he that reads them must persuade himself that 
he always felt them, » 

To effect this , requires such a perpetual stream 
of native energies ; such an intimate acquain- 
tance with the varied emotions of the heart ; 
such a power of unforced imagination ; such a 
faculty of identifying oneself with the character 
represented , as nature bestows on very few in 
the lapse of ages. 

But an author may be far inferior to all these 
high pretensions , yet deserve well of his cotem- 
poraries , and of posterity. He ought to be ori- 
ginal ; he ought to be iniaffected , frank , and 
sincere. If his object be truth ; if his first im- 



6S GNOMICA. CH. XXIX. 

pulse be to communicate what presses upon 
his own bosom , he cannot totally fail in con- 
veying either instruction or pleasure. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

0/ the Poetical Character. 

1822. 

Notwithstanding all the fine things, which it 
has been the custom to say of poets , nothing 
perhaps has been said, which is equal to the 
merits of the true poetical character. 

Poetry is the oracle , which forms the channel 
of union between the intellectual and the ma- 
terial world. There is a world within us , of 
which it is the interpreter. 

Inspiration is not improperly attributed to 
poets. — 

The habit of contemplating what is sublime 
or beautiful , sometimes makes them fastidious , 
or severe, in judging of the mass of mankind; 
and sometimes makes them what unfeeling cen- 
sors call melancholy and querulous. They see 
mankind endowed with a capacity to be happy, 
yet making themselves and others miserable by 
their vile passions , and dull pursuits : — their 
intelligence shews to them the inmost recesses 
jind evil workings of the human heart ; — and 



GNOMICA. CH. XXIX. 69 

this susceptibility receives excessive pain from 
that , which to common dispositions is harmless. 

Are we asked , why Providence orders , or 
permits , those magnificent emotions to be pro- 
duced by human inspiration and human skill , 
which are not produced by the realities of life? 
The answer is , that Providence may no more 
deign to explain its mysteries in this , than in a 
thousand other important but inexplicable ques- 
tions. Providence has ordered , that of innume- 
rable objects of matter, all the delight should 
arise from the associations which the mind 
adds to them ; and which common intellects 
can only perceive by the aid of the lights that 
the poetic talent furnishes. 

It unhappily is found that Poets do not always 
know their duty, nor perform this service as they 
ought. They do not suppose that it is their 
business to pourtray the natural associations, to 
which the human bosom offers a prepared mir- 
ror : but persuade themselves that an higher 
merit will be attained by exhibiting some capri- 
cious and forced association of their own , in 
which they think there may be more novelty , 
and hope there may be more genius. 

But there are cases , in which it requires more 
power , and more brilliance to follow nature than 
to invent : and more skill to bring out the 
changing and evanescent tints that dance about, 



70 GNOMICA. CH. XXIX. 

and dazzle like the hues of the sky, than to 
create those grotesque combinations , which 
can interest only by producing surprise. 

Such things are effected by an artificial ima- 
gination , which requires neither sensibihty , 
nor the knowlege of the human bosom. The 
imagination which brings forward the visions 
that lie at the bottom of the human soul, is a 
flame that blazes with the pure light of Truth; 
and does not seek to throw its rays upon the 
hobgobleries of the false Enchanter's forests ; 
but to illumine the shrines of Elysian gardens; 
and the delicious shades of Eden and Paradise. 

To the true poet belongs a depth of intimacy 
Avith all Moral and Psychological knowlege : his 
mental resources must create for him the pic- 
ture of Man in all his conflicting emotions : he 
must identify himself with the actor, and with 
him who is acted upon : he must feel as they 
would feel , and speak as they would speak. 
This is what no art can do ; what no reasoning 
can effect ; what no labour can approach. 

If we could suppose a person of these gifts 
in full possession of his faculties ; conscious of 
his powers, and Avilling to exert them; yet free 
from those counterbalancing evils of life , with 
which it seems the destiny of our nature too 
often to be overwhelmed, he would be a sort 
of God , both from his aptitude to receive and 



GNOMICA. CH. XXX. XXXI. 7 1 

to confer happiness ! To such a mind all the 
forms of things , that animate and adorn the 
Globe , must be rapture ! 



CHAPTER XXX. 

Birth combined with a competent property. 

1822. 
Education ; independence ; ease ; an inter- 
course with those ranks of society , which excite 
refined emotion ; leisure to pursue honour rather 
than interest ; an habitual intercourse from in- 
fancy with those dignified sentiments which teach 
us to prize fame above selfish and sensual grati- 
fications , seem all to constitute the appropriate 
sphere , in which honorable Birth combined 
with a competent fortune is entitled to move. 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

Mellowness of Age. 

1822. 

Though the Soul must be assumed to be an 
Essence separate from the Body , yet in its 
association with the human form , it is long be- 
fore its powers are expanded into maturity. If 



7 2 GNOMIC A. CH. XXXI. 

it be new to this world , it has every thing to 
learn on its own account , independent of the 
obstructions which its « mortal mould » opposes. 

Very young men have in a few instances pro- 
duced prodigies of blazing genius. But perhaps 
it may be pronounced that those productions 
have almost always wanted mellowness. Language 
does not flow easy , full , and comprehensive , 
till after long use. But time and experience are 
still more necessary for that selection of cir- 
cumstances, from which all perplexing details 
have withdrawn themselves. 

Age gives a « sober certainty » to the senti- 
ments ; and Memory is softened by a tone of 
tender melancholy , which speaks with an al- 
tractive and overcoming authority. The associa- 
tions gathered in an extended course of years 
become richer , more contrasted , and more 
deep. They seem uttered under a sort of more 
aweful responsibility , as of one who is about 
to deliver his account. They are free from the 
false vivacity of mere animal spirits; and strike 
as the results of long and calm meditation. 

All knowlege , when first acquired , causes a 
state of mental fervor , which is not suited to 
its due appreciation. Time and collision in the 
brain , assign it at last its proper place. The ma- 
terial and immaterial world gradually unite them- 
selves into a rich and inexhaustible texture : — 



GNOMICA. CH. XXXI. -yS 

but this is the work of years of intellectual 
attention and toil: at first they are separated, 
discordant, and apt to act in contrary direc- 
tions ! 

It is only a long intimacy with the affecting- 
events of life , that combines the various appea- 
rances in the scenery of Nature with our most 
touching moral affections , sensations , and re- 
collections : that hangs a vision on every tree; 
and sees the images of former dehght in the 
flying colours and fantastic shapes of the clouds. 

The young are light-hearted : or if they have 
grief, it is commonly the result of intemperate 
passions , or over-heated fancy. In the old , grief 
is not loud, or vehement; but contemplative, 
rational , moral , and softening : — in the asso- 
ciations therefore that it makes, it teaches les- 
sons of wisdom; and improves the understanding, 
as well as mends the heart. 

A rich fancy is like an Jiolian harp, that catc- 
hes the passage of the breeze , and throws out 
music from the contact. But the depth of the 
tones depends upon the richness, the activity, 
and the preparation of the strings. — Who but 
must lament , when the strings, Avhich fifty years 
have mellowed, are broke , and sound no more! 
— Shall we not then be filled with regret, Vvhen 
the machinery of a Brain , that an Avhole life has 
been bringing to perfection , stops for ever, and 

lO 



74 GNOMICA. CH. XXXI. 

all the tablets on which thousands of memorials 
were inscribed , become blank ! — 

It is the destiny of our mortal state ! — We 
know not why the slightest injury to our bodies, 
dependent on a thousand trivial casualties , may 
at any time destroy our corporeal existence ; and 
thus prematurely turn to nothing all the treasures 
that the mind has been accumulating! — But it 
a strong motive for not losing a day in registering 
all that it is in our power to preserve. The long 
night may come, when we least expect it; and 
the eternal veil of darkness may efface all that 
is written upon the mirror of our minds! 

"What passes within the temple of the human 
intellect, cannot be guessed but by the aid of 
the outward symbols of language. The richest 
and most abundant genius appears to the com- 
mon eye only like him , who sees nothing except 
that which is embodied without him. Who could 
have guessed at the internal existence of the 
pictures and sentiments , which Cowper's Task 
ha^ exhibited , till the Author's pen brought 
them into bodily shape , and thus exhibited 
them to the view of others ! 

But even an Author himself very frequently 
does not know what is within him, till he thus 
brings it to the test. Beneath the mantle of his 
mind lie hid a thousand images , of which till 
he begins to disturb the veil , he did not suspect 



GNOMICA. CH. XXXII. ^5 

the existence. Gradually the forms come forth; 
and brighten , and multiply , as he continues 
the operation. 

Let no one flatter himself that they will come 
forth of themselves ; that they will burst the pall 
that covers them, without effort; and that in- 
dustry is necessary only where the native gift 
has not been conferred. 

No genius , when he feels the feebleness of 
his first steps , can guess the mighty course he 
is capable of running at last , by the aid of 
energetic and long-enduring exercise. 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

Frailty of Memory. 



1822. 



Let no man lull himself with the belief, that 
what he once knows, he shall always know; — 
and therefore neglect to register those medita- 
tions and observations in which he has occupied 
himself. The value of what he will accumulate 
by continued industry , will gradually display 
itself. The register enables him to compare his 
ideas; to derive confidence from their uniformity; 
or to found amendment on their inconsistency : 
to take advantage of the varying colours of dic- 
tion , which varying humours suggest ; and to 



76 GNOMICA. CH. XXXII. 

catch the flying distinctions , which some hap- 
pier ray of brightness discloses. 

Will it be objected that it induces a careless 
habit of composition , of crude thoughts , and 
imperfect language ? It may be answered , that it 
at least brings the thoughts to a nicer test, than 
when they are suffered to hurry through the 
mind without an attempt to cloathe them in 
words. He Avho reserves all his efforts for great 
occasions , will find his powers stiff and cons- 
trained from Avant of practice and habit : and 
this want of ease will destroy the good, and 
make that , which is trite , intolerable. When 
all depends on one throw of the dye , it is 
impossible to have that self-possession, which 
is necessary to excellence. He, whose fame is 
to depend on repeated displays , does not com- 
mit his all upon a particular occasion : he there- 
fore feels himself complacent ; — and the very 
carelessness with which he lets out his strength, 
gives it that charm of native vigour, which goes 
far to ensure success. — 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

Worldly Cunning, 

High hopes and just ambitions have very little 
chance of worldly success , without bending to 
worldly means. Vigour and swiftness will not win 



GNOMICA. CH. XXXIII. 77 

a long race. Management , secrecy, economy of 
thought , maneuvre , intrigue , are all necessary 
for success in the contest with mankind. The 
contender must act ; and not talk : — Avhen he 
means most , he must say least ; — and when 
he intends to move to the right , he must seem 
to be about to start for the left. He must waste 
no anger in threats : he must execute his ven- 
geance without notice ; and cover it with smiles, 
while he executes it. 

The whole moral and intellectual process, by 
which such an habit of conduct is acquired , 
is destructive of the course of discipline by 
w^hich genius is cherished and fructified. 

The exact conformity between thought and 
expression is among the primary ingredients of 
speculative genius. To habituate oneself to speak 
the reverse of what one thinks , is the meanest of 
all human debasements. It corrupts the whole 
internal structure of Man , and makes the blessed 
gift of language the mere instrument of deceit. 

What test can there be of the rectitude of 
thought , when communication does not bring 
it to the standard of the judgment of others ? 
He who writes what is plausible, rather than 
what is true , has no eloquence ; no fixed prin- 
ciples ; none of that inspiring presence of the 
objects he delineates , which is the great sign 
of real genius. 



78 GNOMICA. CH. XXXIV. 

Whenever men of genius have gone into the 
world , they have been remarked for that open- 
ness and sincerity , which AvorldUngs call the 
greatest of all indiscretions. It was a notorious 
trait in the character of Burke, (i) 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

1822. 

It is strange , how easily the minds of the 
great mass of readers are interested ! They are 
stirred by what revolts a reader of acute per- 
ception and nice taste. Characters rudely and 
shapelessly delineated , in coarse , bald , clumsy 
language ; without sentiment , or reflection ; — 
not brought into difficult and hesitating con- 
flicts ; but thrown together in an ordinary way ; 
— meeting without motive , and acting under 
the impulse of superficial chance; therefore de- 
veloping no secret and curious spring of action; 
and laying open none of the hidden movements 
of the soul : — even these form the matter of 
Narratives , which engross for hours the atten- 
tion of those who will read no other class of 
books. 

(^) See an anecdote exliibiting a similar trait of Lord 
Chatham in Lord Orford's Memoirs of Geo. 11. 



GNOMICA. CH. XXXIV. J^ 

To such readers they must act as magical 
signs , which conjure up the images confor- 
mable to their own fancies , or to the recol- 
lections of their own experience. It is thus per- 
haps that their minds have been habituated to 
behold mankind in association: — looking upon 
human beings as accustomed to act without 
depth of thought, or discrimination of character ; 
and delighting themselves only with figures in 
motion ; — with bustle and sound ! 

They who are familiar with pictures of life 
better drawn , better grouped , better con- 
trasted ; exhibited only in situations of deep 
interest ; and holding no language but that which 
is eloquent, pathetic, or full of deep and saga- 
cious observation , nauseate these unintellectual, 
unskilful, vulgar, common-place delineations; — 
as he , who had continually gazed on the pro- 
ductions ol Salvator Rosa, would look on the 
scene-paintings of a Fair ; or the daubs of a 
showman in a Market-place! 

Yet I am not sure , that even this reading 
is not better than no reading at all. Whatever 
stirs the mind innocently, hoAvever rude it be, 
is better than stagnation. 



8o 



GNOMICA. CH. XXXV. 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

Paucity of the works of English Poets. 



822. 



Few of our English Poets have produced any 
great quantity of compositions. It seems , that 
either the labour was too exhausting ; or that 
other pursuits more satisfactory, or more plea- 
sant , withdrew them from the Muses. It is at 
least impossible to deny the inference from these 
facts , that great difficulties obstruct the attain- 
ment of superiority in this Art. 

For my own part , I should assign the most 
effect to the exhausture of animal spirits. There 
is a glow and ardour necessary for the genuine 
production , of which few persons can sup- 
port the heat long together. Every object des- 
cribed is present in full splendor to the agitated 
eye of the Poet. Nothing less can give him the 
true vigour; — those brilliant colours of language, 
without which the work is all hollow , still , 
lifeless form ! 

All the abilities that ever informed humanity, 
all the perfection of Art, never supplied the 
defect of this ideal presence , — any more than 
the chisel of the Statuary can give to the cold 
marble , which it models into the human shape , 
a voice and beating heart ! 



GNOMICA. CH. XXXVI. 8 1 

Language itself , even when the feehngs and 
ideas are perfect , is long before it submits suffi- 
ciently to a poet's command. It is seldom that it 
presents itself easy , ripe , and full yet concise , 
till after years of incessant exercise. 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 

Common-place Characters. 

1822. 

It probably happens to numbers of Mankind, 
that their outward senses are quickly and live- 
lily moved by that , which they have no mental 
mirror within them capable of reflecting : nor 
of which perhaps they have even a memory suffi- 
cient to recall, distinctly, the nature of the im- 
pression made. 

Such persons cannot bear solitude , or their 
own thoughts. Reading is to them dry , barren , 
and motionless. But sometimes the possession of 
animal spirits makes them entertaining compa- 
nions: and if they have a ready judgment of that 
which is presented to them , not unuseful mem- 
bers of society. They often , amid the bustle and 
irritation of company, even outshine the specu- 
lative genius, whose powers are better fitted for 
silence and solitude. But all their faculties and 
means of superiority die with the occasion : out 

II 



8 2 GNOMIC A. CH. XXXVI. 

lasting neither the time , nor the place in which 
they were displayed. 

If Man is designed to have wants, and enjoy 
gratifications, beyond those which are necessary 
for his corporeal existence , then the use of what 
supplies more visionary and exalted enjoyments, 
cannot be questioned. 

c(But» says the dull matter-of-fact censor of 
manners , « give me one who performs well the 
duties of life ; who goes through the daily rou- 
tine of actions , which the calls of his neigh- 
bours impose upon him ! I want no flowers and 
whims , and airy castles which every wind may 
disperse ! » 

It is well that the blind xan thus content 
themselves with their blindness. Were three 
fourths of mankind to knoAv their own deficien- 
cies , discontent with themselves Avould make life 
hateful to them. Ordinary understandings are but 
the creatures of the circumstances, in which they 
are placed : they see not beyond the manners , 
the habits, the passions, the objects of ambition, 
the conduct , of those with whom they associate : 
they have no spring in their minds capable of 
altering or enlarging these views. They cannot 
see that , if it is the business of the majority to 
confine themselves to the due performance of 
their own narrow part , it is the business of 
others to direct the conduct of the whole , or 



GNOMICA. CH. XXXVII. 83 

of large portions , of their fellow-beings. They 
do not see that those judgments or rules of 
action , -which end in themselves , can be of little 
value. 

He , who dislikes generalisations , exhibits a 
strong symptom of a dry , unfertile , intellect. 
He can behold, or comprehend, nothing but in 
its actual workings and details : and always mis- 
takes the accidental form for the essence. 

But as he, who is engaged in speculation , is 
commonly less fitted for action, than he who does 
not concern himself with any thing but that 
which he is doing ; and as there must be jnanj to 
obey , for one who directs , all this is the arran- 
gement of apparent wisdom for the proper move- 
ment of human affairs. 

Our anger therefore at encountering these 
narrow notions is not well-placed. We ought to 
consider them as necessary appendages to the 
station of those who entertain them. We ought 
to pity , rather than resent them. 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 

Knowlege of Moral Truth. 



1822. 



It may seem easy to discover the Truth , and 
to relate it : but the rarity of those who have 



84 GNOMICA. CH. XXXVII. 

done so successfully, proves the mistake of this 
supposition. 

The mass of mankind go on blindfold from 
day to day; or see only the little circumference 
within the reach of their own feet and hands. 
Providence has ordered that the veil shall not be 
with-drawn, but to those who shall have rendered 
themselves worthy of it by intellectual culture , 
applied to the expansion of intellectual gifts. 

But there is a delight , which outruns expres- 
sion , as we behold that veil receding before our 
view: as we see objects clear up, and take their 
respective outlines ;, shapes , and colours : as the 
eye becomes strong enough to gaze without being 
dazzled ; and to distinguish variety without being 
confused ! 

The moral congruities of human life ; the nice 
dependencies ; the deep and concealed order of 
conllicting appearances ; the good lying hid under 
seeming evil; the frequent folly and emptiness of 
what appears great ; and the dignity and gran- 
deur of virtue in obscurity and distress ; — these 
are not revealed to light and vulgar minds : or if 
the memories of such minds are loaded with les- 
sons which explain them , these lessons are re- 
peated in the manner of parrots ; and the repea- 
ters still wonder and doubt in their hearts as 
much as before; or throw them off from their 
consideration as rapidly as the words escape 
from their lips. 



GNOMICA. CH. XXXVII. 85 

They talk as others talk ; and act as others act; 
and are kept in the right direction only hy mo- 
ving with the stream. 

All great moral writers of all nations have 
generally come to the same opinions upon main 
points which regard practical life. And this must 
have been done sincerely , and in right of their 
own original conclusions ; because he , who has 
taken opinions at second hand , and repeated 
what he borrowed from others , has never yet 
gained a permanent reputation. 

This shews the consistency and certainty of 
MORAL SCIENCE ; and obviates all suspicion , that 
its doctrines are the result of caprice and hazard. 
The false opinions in Morals , which present them- 
selves to the understandings of men of inferior 
capacity, or of violent passions , arise from the 
contracted scale on which they view objects. 
They see but themselves; and forget, or omit, 
all beyond. What is their interest according to 
this narroiv regard, is the reverse of their interest, 
when they embrace the consideration of others : 
because if it be just to act to others as they pro- 
pose to act , it is just for others so to act to them. 
It is their interest therefore to forbear , that they 
may not expose themselves to retribution. 

The foundation of all Poetry is Morality : and 
he who has so much occupied himself with the 
ornamental and technical part of Poetry , as to 



86 GlYOMICA. CH. XXXVIII. 

have neglected laying the foundation properly, 
will rather please at first than continue to possess 
a durable interest. 

Even Pope is said to have been not an entire 
master of the scheme of Moral Philosophy, v^hich 
he attempted to convey to the world through 
the pleasing and rich channel of Poetry ; and of 
which he is reported to have borrowed too much 
from the confused theory of his friend Bolinbroke. 



CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

Mental preemineTice the result of Culture. 

It having been observed ^ that as the Earth will 
not bring forth her best fruits but by the labour 
and care and skill of Man , so the Mind will not 
produce its best works but by culture and toil; 
it is a fair inference that excellences, not only 
uncontemplated but even beyond hope, may be 
attained by the enduring exertion which shall 
long continue to stimulate native power. 

It often happens that when we first contem- 
plate a subject , it is all obscurity : but after 
long and patiently poring upon it , the clouds 
gradually withdraw themselves ; and all becomes 
as transparent as a pure stream , that shews the 
bed over which it runs , brilliant as a mirror. 



GNOMICA. CH. XXXVIII. 87 

Burke's mind continued to improve to the last. 
Johnson's powers were in an equal state of pro- 
gressive vigour almost to tlie last. And Dryden's 
most nervous and best poems were notoriously- 
written on the verge of seventy. The decay of the 
Body may counteract the growing faculties of the 
Mind: but if the Body remains neutral, the 
Mind that is kept in proper exercise, is certain to 
augment its capacity every added year. 

It is possible, that in the mere freshness and 
activity of Fancy , or tenderness of Sentiment, a 
poet may be more glowing in youth. In whatever 
is not mere Imagery , or simple Sentiment, but is 
compounded in part of that which is intellectual, 
it is more consonant both to reason and expe- 
rience to suppose the reverse. 

The digested and conquered treasures of the 
Mind increase with tae days that produce them ; 
and practice adds wonderfully to facility and 
readiness of use. 

It was never intended that we should under- 
stand the relation between matter and intellect , 
unless darkly , until we had refined our un- 
derstandings, and ameliorated their powers, by 
discipline , long exertion , case , and art. 



88 GNOMICA. CH. XXXIX. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

Inequality of Destinies. 

1822. 

The lots of Life certainly seem to be cast with 
great inequality of Good and Evil. Deep, frequent, 
and inevitable Misfortunes seem often to be the 
fate of those , vs^ho apparently do not deserve 
them : and whole families appear to be marked 
out as the victims of Sorrow, Sickness, Injustice, 
Oppression , or premature Death. 

It is a sublime picture to behold 

inA great man struggling with the storms of Fate: y> 

but will this reflection console him for his suffe- 
rings ? It is true that 

« The hues of Bliss m.ore brightly glow , 
Chastised by sabler tints of TFoe : » 

but then they must be in some degree propor- 
tioned to each other ! 

The wand of Imagination may pierce through 
clouds with effect, where sunshine is behind them: 
— but where it is all darkness, the deeper the 
wand goes , the more the despondence. 

There are delusions , whicii are beneficial and 
virtuous: there are delusions which are dange- 
rous and wrong. To drink the oblivious cup of 
Imagination may sometimes enable us to subdue 



GJyOMICA. CH. XL. 8q 

Grief: but it may sometimes lull us into neglect 
of our duties. 

To fix the line of distinction , is a subject of 
perpetual uneasiness to a conscientious mind. 



CHAPTER XL. 

In what compositions an union of all the mental faculties 
is displayed. 



It is not easy to believe that excellence was 
ever attained in any high department of Compo- 
sition, but by an assemblage of all the best powers 
of the Mind : fancy ; imagination ; sentiment ; 
strong , and active , versatile , reason ; memory. 
All the great moral conclusions, expressed with 
that energy with which great genius expresses 
them , are , in general , the complicated result 
of all these united powers ! Above all , this is 
illustrated by the pen of Dante , in whom this 
union is exhibited with the most force , and the 
most conciseness. It appears also most majesti- 
cally in every part of Milton's two great Epic 
Poems ! 

So much for the narrow idea, that imagery 
alone constitutes true poetry! 



12 



go GWOMICA. CH. XLI. 

CHAPTER XLI. 

Knowlege comes too late. 



1822. 



It is among the ills which our destiny has 
incurred , that Rnowlege, and the due appretia- 
tion of Rnowlege, come too late. When we are 
grown old, and have a short space before us, we 
see what mighty things could have been done, 
if we had made use of the time which is past. 

But the feelings of those , whose senses are 
best fitted to lay in the stores of future emi- 
nence, are apt at an early age to be too tumul- 
tuous for calm study. It is probable that if the 
reason and judgment are predominantly exercised 
in youth , and the more creative faculties of the 
mind but little called into action , it will happen, 
that , as years advance , the intellect will become 
too dry and sterile. A cold, fastidious , repudia- 
ting judgment is not compatible with those plastic 
energies , which alone produce what is great or 
beautiful. 

The Memory may be exercised to the oppres- 
sion of more dignified and more effective facul- 
ties ; and may induce an habit of dependence, 
sufficient to destroy the self-reliance which is a 
necessary cooperative stimulus in the work of 
Invention. 



GNOMIC A. CH. XLI. 9 1 

In the course of experience , innumerable im- 
pressions are made upon us , which form Hnks of 
association with the records of past times ; giving 
them an interest and use , which they wanted in 
our younger and simpler years. This may be a 
reason why we are often carried through that 
labour in age , which the strength of youth 
could not accomplish. — And are these labours 
of trivial import ? 

If a whole population were made up of men 
of business who work for hire or lucre , and 
whose livelihood or whose ambition depends on 
such work , then all the higher productions of 
literature ; — especially the works of Fancy and 
Morality, — might be considered as mere flowers of 
empty ornament, which, if they gave some plea- 
sure, might still be deemed not even innocent; 
but rather , seducers of the understanding , and 
undue softeners of the heart. 

This is however to suppose a state of society not 
advanced beyond a very low point of riches and 
civilisation. The highest object of Riches is to 
obtain the command of independence , refine- 
ment , and luxury ; to be at liberty to cultivate 
and enjoy all those improvements of the mind , 
to which Providence has permitted that we should 
reach by labour and ingenuity. — There cannot 
exist a more important benefactor to Society , 
than a man of literary genius, who duly exerts 
his powers. 



9^ GNOMICA. CH. XLII. 

CHAPTER XLII. 

Ubiquity and perpetuity of Genius. 



[822. 



Ubiquity and perpetuity are the mighty prero- 
gatives possessed by the author of great and soUd 
genius. The worth of whatever illustrates the 
moral or intellectual state of Man ; of whatever 
reflects the most touching sentiments of the 
human bosom ; is so fully felt , that sooner or 
later it will find its way among the enlightened 
part of Mankind. 

Books may indeed be endlessly multiplied 
without adding to human knowlege : but just 
thoughts , which are original to the writer , and 
are adequately expressed , can never be useless. 

It would be well , if we could blot out all the 
authors who write from memory , and at second- 
hand. They are like that sort of legal witnesses 
in a Court , whose testimony , if they speak only 
from hearsay , is rejected by a Judge. 

Whether he, who by the aid of a clear memory 
can supply himself with all the ideas , and all the 
knowlege , which he wants ; or he , on whom 
Nature has conferred the power of originating 
them , is the most happy , — is a very compli- 
cated question. The original thinker is commonly 
in a struggle: and the fever of intense thought 



GNOMICA. CH. XLIII. gB 

often wears and exhausts him. But he conse- 
quently enjoys a force of mental gratification , 
and a consciousness of power , to which others 
are strangers. 



CHAPTER XLIII. 

Regret Jbr the Past. — Serpentine wisdom. 

1822. 

In looking back upon the Past, I can see innu- 
merable cases in which my present judgment of 
things would have directed me to have acted 
otherwise. Probably this is but one among the 
common misfortunes of humanity: age and expe- 
rience , when it turns backward its eyes , and 
examines the road it has travelled over , generally 
sees much which it ought to have avoided; and 
many points , which it ought to have reached by 
other paths. 

When we most Avish to become independent 
of others , we are so weak as to use means, 
which put us most at their mercy: and to raise 
the envy and rivalry of others, we furnish them 
with the easiest means of defeating us. 

Impatience ruins us : calmness and perseve- 
rance win the race. 

But there is another rule for success, still more 
potent than even these : that which the sagacious 



94 GNOMICA. CH. XLIII. 

Sir Henry TFotton , who knew the world admi- 
rably , gave to Milton as a direction for conduc- 
ting himself in his Travels : i pensieri stretti , ed 
il viso sciolto : (thoughts close , and looks loose,) 
One may go still farther : « scarcely let your left 
hand know , what jour right hand is doing, » 
There is a cold self-confidence , which goes far 
to secure the fulfilment of its own desires: but 
open boasting , and ostentatious assumption , 
provoke their own defeat. A man may do the most 
audacious things : but he must conceal his auda- 
city under the most humble and deceitful demea- 
nour. Nothing is conceded to right: every thing, 
to intrigue and sinister motives. 

Those great talents , which commence their 
conduct in the world , as if they believed man- 
kind such as their own noble imaginations pre- 
sent them as aspiring to be , are always disap- 
pointed and defeated at every step. 

The most active and ruling passions in society 
are Vanity and Envy : but in a great number of 
persons , ( probably the larger proportion, ) they 
are under a great deal of management ; because 
a sort of instinctive sense tells them , that the 
outward appearance of these passions would en- 
tirely defeat the object they seek. Where they do 
appear , there is all the crime without any of the 
success. Against open Vanity and open Envy 
every one is in arms. 



GNOMICA. CH. XLIV. qS 

If it did not happen that worldly encouragement 
is often necesary to give play even to the purest 
and most direct talents , their common inaptitude 
to gain this encouragement might be the less 
regretted. For in the effort to gain it , they often 
sacrifice more substantial qualities : and w^hen 
they are drawn out of the retirement , where they 
are the masters of their own free thoughts , they 
lose the native vigour in which their main merit 
would lie. 

But genius is sometimes ignorant of the extent 
of its own capacity, till strong excitement has 
brought it into full exercise. 



CHAPTER XLIV. 

Expansion of Genius not overcome by Adversity or 
Difficulty, 



The very things , that would seem to operate 
against the advancement of Genius, and the ac- 
quisition of knowlege , are sometimes the grand 
instruments of their progress. At other times 
Genius brealis through all obstacles , and acts in 
defiance of them. 

It is not much ease , which gives the faculties 
power to play. There is a degree of severe exer- 
cise necessary , which strong excitement alone 



96 GNOMICA. CH. XLIV. 

can prompt. It is said of Lawyers, that no one ever 
persevered to distinction in that laborious pro- 
fession, whom some strong necessity did not urge 
to great and laborious effort. 

Neither adversity therefore, nor other avoca- 
tions, will crush the expansion of Genius : — 
sometimes they will not even impede it. Burns 
and Bloomfield are instances of this. 

The powers of the human mind vary so much, 
require such different food, and display them- 
selves at such different periods of life, that no 
universal rule on this subject can perhaps be 
established. But whatever debilitates toil , and 
weakens attention , cannot , surely , be doubted 
to operate unfavourably. 

Man is so strange a compound of inconsistent 
qualities ; our virtues and vices so border on each 
other; and so often cross the line; — that the 
imperfect regulation of our hearts is, above all, 
in continual inimicality with the improvement of 
our intellects. Our passions put us into straits, 
•which will not allow us the free play of our 
reason. Vapours rise before us ; and limit or dis- 
colour the objects of our sight. We court these 
vapours , because our eyes are not strong enough 
to behold the truth. 

But Truth , and Truth alone , must be the pur- 
suit of Genius, and of Learning. Nothing else will 
secure fame; nothing else vvill make an author's 



GNOMICA. CH. XLIV. g-J 

writings live. The flimsy plausibilities of perver- 
ted talent will disperse , like fogs before the Sun. 

He may be above the influence of the vain 
passions of the world, Avho chooses to be so. In- 
dependence , firmness , dignity , rectitude of 
thought, will secure him respect: they will ope- 
rate as a charm against insult and depression; 
they will bow down the insolence of riches, and 
the scorn of rank. But there is a dazzle both in 
wealth and in titles , which few are strong-minded 
enough to be unmoved by. And it happens too 
frequently, that when this strength of mind is 
assumed, it degenerates into countervailing as- 
sumption , which takes the shape of a coarse 
rudeness. 

The stern virtue , which thus finds itself at 
leisure to unmask Truth , and hold those un- 
restrained conversations with her , for which the 
submission to worldly desires disqualifies us , is 
probably among the very rarest of human distinc- 
tions. Milton perhaps had it: Bacon had it not: 
and Addison had it not. 

Will it be said that a greater mixture with 
human frailties makes us more familiar with 
them; and more tender to them? Must then the 
mind be ignorant of that , of which it has not had 
practical experience? Will it be contended that 
Shakespeare's conception of the characters of 
Lady Macbeth J Othello, Lear, Hamlet, etc., 

i3 



98 GIN^OMICA. CH. XLV. 

arose from personal observation ? The more free 
the mind is for the play of its faculties, the more 
strongly and the more truly it will conceive ! 

We know scarcely any thing of the private 
history of Shakespeare: — but it must be pre- 
sumed , that his mind was free from great cares, 
sorrows , and difficulties , because he always dis- 
plays an elasticity , a chearfulness , a sunshine , 
quite incompatible with the load of anxiety and 
woe ! 

In Milton we perceive more of suffering and 
of gloom ; — but he throws off the incumbent 
weight like a giant. In Dante, and in Tasso, the 
elastic force, which no oppression could destroy, 
is more extraordinary. Indeed in the case of 
Tasso it shews the strength and blaze of human 
genius , in a light of which the wonder can never 
be exhausted. 



CHAPTER XLV. 

Minute and scientific exactness of description of natural 
scenery not the most poetical. Mischief of false theories, 

1 822. 
I remember that D.^' Aikin somewhere recom- 
mends a poet to describe with the eye and the 
precision of a Naturalist. This betrays a very 
narrow and erroneous conception of the prin- 



GNOMICA. CH. XLV. QQ 

ciples of Poetry. To follow this advice would be 
to act directly contradictory to the business of a 
poet. It assumes him to be not only a mere 
describer of material objects ; but a describer 
of them in detail. He praises, on this account, 
T. Warton's First of April; of Avhich the fault 
is, that it is too much confined to mere descrip- 
tion; and too little enriched by sentiment and 
reflection. 

A great Poet loves Nature : but he loves it 
only in association with Intellect. If therefore he 
is sometimes tired of mere scenery, it must not 
be supposed that his love of the grand features 
of landscape ; of rural objects ; of the changing 
hues of seasons ; of the sun , the skies , and the 
air; is affected! He must sometimes prefer to 
contemplate all these things through the medium 
of his fancy, which can combine them with the 
internal stores of his intellect. — At the moment 
that outward objects present themselves , they 
often rather disturb than complete the internal 
operations of the mind. 

It is not at the moment of their presence , that 
the effect of the riches , which they infuse , is 
accomplished. 

Erroneous theories are very mischievous. They 
act like a blight , or hang like a weight, on many 
spirits. If those who are bold y regard them 
not , others who are more timid and diffident , 



100 GNOMICA. CH. XLV. 

but not with less genius , are overcome by them. 
— How many good poets have false theories in 
the art of poetry suppressed ; and how many bad 
poets have they hatched into birth ! 

JN^ature need only be left to herself; and the 
intellectual fruit of a man of genius will always 
take a proper form. Whether it take the form of 
imagery , or sentiment , or reflection , or all 
combined , it will be in its proper place. 

But the multitude are always taught to set up 
some temporary exclusive test of excellence, 
(generally artificial,) which is, consequently, for 
the most part wrong. Each varying test , elected 
by caprice , rules its little day ; and is forgot. 
But each in succession brings forward an hun- 
dred technical competitors , who die with their 
prototype. 

It is curious to observe how the augmenting 
and kindUng force of Dryden's genius augmented 
his powers of precise description in his last days, 
( as his Fables evince , ) probably without having 
increased the perspicacity of his eye for natural 
scenery. Several astonishing instances of this are 
exhibited in the unrivaled Tale of Theodore and 
Honor ia, 

it is true that Gray Avas a Botanist ; and 
Rousseau was a Botanist: but other great poets 
may be named , who perhaps knev/ not the leaf 
of an oak from the leaf of an ash-tree. — 



GNOMICA. CH. XLVI. 101 

CHAPTER XLVI. 

Inequality of mental gifts. 

1822. 

It may be asked , why Providence should deal 
so unequally with her mental gifts ? Then let it 
be also asked, why one human being is born 
robust or beautiful , and another weakly or de- 
formed ? Why one is tall ; another short ; why 
nature gives one an amiable temper and dispo- 
sition ; to others one which torments themselves 
and all within their reach ? We know not the 
cause of these inequalities : we are sure that they 
generally exist ! 

Of the varied seeds of genius, thus bestowed, 
the nutriment and expansion depends on the 
nicest management ; and often perhaps upon 
accidents , which no management can controul. 
An excessive excitement of the sensibility may be 
fatal: a blight of it may be equally destructive. 
The neglect of the intellectual faculties may leave 
the sensibility without use ; and the over-use of 
them may turn aside the native force of outward 
impressions. 

The deepest genius is not always the most 
ready ; or soonest developed. Strong ingredients 
are often long in working ; and in their first con- 
flict boil and bubble , and throw up noxious 



102 GNOMICA. CH. XLVr. 

Yapoiirs. What is the result of extensive and 
compUcated views , is not so readily mastered, 
as slight and superficial prospects. Difficulties 
and seeming failures will discourage a meek tem- 
per: the profound self-confidence, which alone 
can carry genius forward , will surmount it. 

When genius pines beneath discouragement ; 
when neglect palsies its powers ; it is wanting in 
a necessary ingredient. It ought to know by its 
own internal movements, that of which it may 
at last be capable, when no one else can see them! 

But many may think , ( while they suppose 
what are called works of genius might be pro- 
duced by half the world , ) it is no matter whe- 
ther works, to which the name of genius is ap- 
plied , are produced at all ! 

To inaccurate or slight thinkers, the remote 
effects of every production of intellectual emi- 
nence must be utterly hidden. They do not per- 
ceive , or they imperfectly perceive , even its 
immediate effects either in instruction or amuse- 
ment: while force or elegance of language, a 
happy delineation of an interesting image , or a 
glowing expression of just sentiment , is alone an 
accession to our mental wealth. The Nation , 
that has brought its language to an high degree 
of power , is advanced many steps in the scale of * 
human beings ! 



GNOMICA. CH. XL VII. XL VIII. 103 

CHAPTER XLVII. 

Extiication from Localities. 

1822. 

It is natural to cling to the scenes of our nati- 
vity. A heart of deep feeling will tear them away, 
not without long and convulsive struggles. But 
they must be rooted up , whatever be the pangs 
it cost. Change of soil is necessary to give vigour 
to the stem ; and colour and flavour and purity 
to the fruit. 



CHAPTER XLVIII. 

The bent of nature beyond Ihe dominion of accident. 

1822. 
It can scarcely be deemed a fair question, 
what course of life it would be prudent to pursue; 
what would lead to most worldly success; and 
what would make the individual and his connec- 
tions most happy ? The individual is not the 
master of himself ; or of his destiny. He has calls 
to which he cannot be deaf; he has feverish de- 
sires which indulgence only can allay. The invo- 
luntary workings of the mind are always harras- 
smg his attention ; and while ideas that visit and 



104 GNOMICA. CH. XLIX. 

haunt him , remain imcourted and unstudied, he 
is detained in a state of dissatisfied irritation , 
which ends in languor and despondence; and 
sometimes utter loss of faculties. 

But in addition to all the principal qualities 
of genius , a certain degree of fortitude , or ad- 
ventrous spirit , is necessary to enable it to exert 
and display itself. Discouragements and blights 
are sure to attack it ; and erroneous criticisms 
are sure to mislead it. 



CHAPTER XLIX. 

Addison , Dryden , Johnson. 

i8a2. 

Addison was an admirable critic as well as a 
beautiful writer; and understood to perfection 
all the principles of poetical invention , and poe- 
tical ornament. 

Dryden's talents and style were stupendous; 
but his feelings and his taste were variable and 
capricious. 

Johnson was a gigantic master in judgment; 
and even in taste, when he chose to put his mighty 
powers to the stretch ; as his Preface Xo Shakes- 
peare demonstrably proves ; but on common 
occasions he was perverse, hard, and sometimes 
coarse and vulgar, in his opinions. 



GNOMICA. CH. L, 105 

CHAPTER L. 

On the charge that men of Genius j and high Talents, 
want judgment y and practical sense. (1) 

lo Now 1822. 

Is it true , that men of genius and high talents 
always want judgment ; and are unfit for the 
conduct of affairs ? Or is this cry nothing more 
than the mode , by which coarse , dull , hard- 
headed men reconcile to themselves their own 
deficiences ? 

It may be said , that the former class may think 
and judge rightly upon admitted data: but that 
their warmth is apt to assume inaccurate or false 
data ! 

This may sometimes happen : but not exclu- 
sively to genius and talents: — and coldness may 
as probably see too little of facts , as Warmth 
may see too much of them ! — 

Genius indeed is, from its generous and noble 
nature , too commonly inclined to give mankind 
credit for more virtue and philanthropy than 
they possess. In this respect genius is undoubtedly 
more liable to err in its premises ^ than common 
minds. And we hear enough every day of the 
charge of « arguing right upon wrong premises* » 

(^) This is the entire and unaltered copy of a Letter 
actually sent at the date by the Post to England. 

«4 



106 GWOMICA. CH. E. 

But then we are bound to avoid the dishonesty 
of taking advantage of this supposed deficiency 
of judgment with regard to the assumption of 
premises , as a pretence to throw doubt on the 
accuracy of judgments founded on admitted 
premises. 

Mere vulgar men , of dry hard business , do 
indeed frequently contrive to conduct things to 
a successful issue , without being able to give 
satisfactory reasons for what they do ; or shew 
any principle of action. They blunder on by a 
mere sort of tact ^ which may be said to have 
something of the character of instinct. But then 
this does not apply when any question is raised ! 
— When that happens , it must be determined 
by the rules of reason , and the principles of 
justice. 

Men of business never raise abstract questions: 
and with still more certainty it may be said , that 
they are never capable of resolving them ! — - 

It was never said , or thought , that men of 
genius, or high talents, were fitted to execute 
the drudgery of their own designs or speculations. 
The question is , what faith is to be put on the 
soundness of the designs or speculations ? — 

Now the soundness of a design or speculation 
must be two-fold. — Not only the superstruc- 
ture must be true , but \ht foundation must be 
good. — 



GNOMICA. CEI. L. 107 

The genius , or talent , therefore , is not soUd , 
of which the products do not partake of both these 
quahties ! 

With regard to execution , a General in Chief, 
who forms an able and profound plan of a Cam- 
paign, is no otherwise to blame for the ill exe- 
cution of any of the respective parts of his Gene- 
rals of Division , than so far as it depended on 
his own discretion to make choice of his instru- 
ments or agents ; and so far as the choice afforded 
him was sufficiently ample ! — 

I say then , that if the design or speculation^ 
taken abstractedly , be not solid , he who forms 
it must want solid genius or solid talents. 

It is necessary to notice the words « abstract 
tedly taken » because where the design or specu- 
lation touches SELF , there passion may intervene 
to colour and falsify. I presume it is to this last 
circumstance that we must look, as furnishing 
a reason to account for so many men of genius 
having led a life of error, and exposed themselves 
to an unbroken series of disappointments and 
misfortunes. 

The knowlege of these distinctions, if they 
are true , is not unimportant. Coarse practical 
men are so puffed up with their own success ; 
and are apt to use such degrading raillery on 
unfortunate genius or talent , that whatever has a 
tendency to set them right in the minds of men^ 



108 GNOMICA, CH. L. 

must be benificial. So far as the encouragement of 
INTELLECT is uscful OF Ornamental to So iiety, 
every thing which tends to degrade it ought to 
be counteracted. 

Intellect throws its direction in unseen ways, 
even upon those who imagine themselves to go 
on only by the impulse of mere brutal force. 

There is a sort of awe and respect which it is 
necessary for high minds to command, before 
they can be enabled to exert the influence which 
it is so desirable that they should carry with 
them. 

If the false stigmas, which the sordid wretches, 
engaged in carrying on the haphazard game of 
common life , are so anxious and expert to cast 
upon them , should succeed , a large portion of 
Genius would be blighted in the bud; and never 
advance towards fruit or flower! 

It cannot be denied , that there is a species of 
serpentine cunning, which in the world's eye, 
and for the purpose of worldly ends, is a good 
substitute for wisdom. This consists principally 
in deceit, in simulation and chssimulation , in 
taking advantage of men's passions and follies, by 
the plausible profession of principle or honou*- 
rable sentiment, only for the purpose of a lure or 
trap; and abandoning them the instant they cease 
to answer some selfish benefit. 

But such opinions do not deserve encourage- 



GNOMICA. CH. L, lOQ 

ment. They lead to every thing which is base. 
And the mass of mankind are too much disposed 
by their own mean passions and private interests, 
to give them every nutriment in their heads and 
hearts , for which they can find any pretext. 

To justify them therefore in theory, to set them 
up , as entithng those who put them in practice , 
to deference and high authority , over genius and 
high talent , — as if these two last were rather 
for show than use — is going beyond practical 
abandonment into theoretic depravity ; is making 
virtue a sound ; and deliberately and systemati- 
cally confounding the distinctions of right and 
wrong! 

It must be recollected that these arguments 
are in answer to those , who make an attempt to 
decry or diminish the weight of the authority 
of Genius or high talent ; to lessen the prima facie 
leaning in favour of the rectitude of their deci- 
sions or resolves , or reasonings , or sentiments ! 

— We know that , strictly these ought to depend 
solely on their own intrinsic strength and truth. 

— But where collateral presumptions towards 
the contrary side are set up , it is time to speak 
out in their defence. 

No man ought lightly to be driven from his 
hold at a late period of life. He has long taken his 
stand ; and probably no other is open to him. 

If he is decidedly wrong, indeed, it is never too 



110 GNOMICA.. CH. L. 

late to give away : but others ought to be very- 
cautious ; and very sure of their right, before 
they begin the attack : — no doubtful arguments 
or plausibihties will justify it! — 

At this late period , and where there is no 
opening for a retreat , it is not in human nature 
to bear, A^ithout a severe struggle, such an effort 
to destroy one's self-complacence. 

Unquestionably Multitudes of human Beings 
discover , on looking back , when near their jour- 
ney's end , that they have been wandering in 
wrong paths. — They are bound to endure their 
own discoveries, however painful: but it is not 
to be endured, that they should have the sight of 
these errors , ( still less supposed errors ,) rudely 
obtruded on them by others : and it is least of all 
endurable > if it should happen to be done for 
private ends ; or the gratification of malignant 
passions ! , 

The common opinion would deem, that there 
is a superfluity of subtle and over-refined rea- 
soning and sentiment in all this. — Mankind in 
general , it may be said , are not so very scrupu- 
lous and full of solicitude in their latter days : or 
in any part of their lives. 

It may be granted that the mass of society are 
very much hardened, if not brutalized, in the 
daily conflict of human necessities, human inte- 
rests, and human vanities. — But there are great 



G3r03IJCA. CH. L. Ill 

numbers , who are alive to all the mental disquie- 
tudes which I have mentioned. And these are 
they , to Avhom the most respect is due; and on 
whose happiness the infliction of such severe in- 
juries is a flagrant crime. 

Sensibility may be morbid : it may be selfish. 
Its care may be to avoid pain itself! But whence 
does that pain to selj- often spring? — From re- 
gard to the pain or ill doing of others] Tt is not 
selfish therefore in its cause; if it be so in its 
effects ! 

A good deal is said against sensibility ; — and 
more especially since the time of Rousseau ! — 
But very little skill is used, or pains are taken , to 
distinguish the true from the false. — Both are 
confounded , — the use and the al)use — in one 
sweeping condemtiation ! 

As far as Genius is concerned , it is quite im- 
possible that any eminent degree of poetical, or 
moral, Genius should exist without it. — If the 
senses were not susceptible and vivid , the fancy 
could never be duly furnished. If the heart were 
not tender, or active and strong, in its emotions, 
there would be a deficiency of all just and im- 
pressive sentiment ! 

Poetical or moral Genius therefore could no 
more exist without sensibility than a fountain 
without water. 

The art and duty lies in the discipline, direc- 



112 GIVOMICA. CH. L. 

tioii, and controul of this sensibility. If not pro- 
perly managed, it cannot be denied , that it may 
gradually absorb all regard but to its own selfish 
pains and pleasures : but it then changes its 
nature ; — and becomes rather corporeal and 
personal j than mental : for surely there is an 
original corporeal sensitiveness, which belongs to 
many who have hearts naturally hard; and cer* 
tainly not softened by time and age. 

But persons of sensibility deep both by nature 
and culture , may have it still ruling over them in 
all its force even while they may be the cause, 
both to tliemselves and others, of great suffering. 
— If nothing is to be deemed sensibility towards 
the happiness of others, but that of which the 
effects are happiness to others , we judge by 
a principle which must throw the frailty of poor 
humanity into entire despondence! — The will 
must sometimes be taken for a redeeming virtue, 
even where it ends in wishes and dreams; leaving 
the act unaccomplished , unembodied , as airy as 
a passing vapour; — or if effected, productive of 
an opposite end* 

Tiie conscience with regard to others, the scru- 
pulous and anxious desire to do as one would be 
done bjy is indeed immeasurably different in diffe- 
rent persons. There are a few noble Beings, in 
whom not only the benevolent feeling is ready 
to take place wherever the occasion is presented 5 



GNOMIC A. CH. L. 113 

but which is not suffered to evaporate in internal 
emotion ; but is urged in every practicable way 
into action, I have seen one or two instances; but 
the trying solicitudes to which such high virtue 
is exposed , are almost too great for the human 
heart! — 

There is a sort of coarse practical benevolence, 
little touched by painful sensibility , which Pro- 
vidence seems to have ordained as more consistent 
with the fallen state of the ordinary class of man- 
kind. That those operations of Genius, which are 
occupied in the delineation of the visionary part 
of our nature, should be assigned as a blessing 
and ornament to us; and yet that a large portion 
of those who are warmed and cheered hy its 
beams , should be insensible or ungrateful to the 
sources whence they derive these enjoyments , 
may perhaps be a dispensation to hide from them 
the mortifying sense of their own native inferiority. 



11 i\W. 182a. 

I am fully aware of the surprise with which 
many persons view these sorts of discussions, 
which tliey call not merely idle, but vexatious. 
It is not to be denied, that many are not at leisure 
to pursue them, and many are not found with a 
capacity to pursue them. But there are otiiers , 
who have both the leisure and capacity ; and in 



114 GNOMICAv CH. L. 

whom it seems a desertion of duty not to pursue 
them. A part of mankind are as much destined 
for speculation, as others are for mere action. To 
them, it it not sufficient to go round and round 
in the same mechanical steps , like a blind horse 
in a mill. 

But all sophistry is detestable; all that kind of 
artful discussion, which goes just far enough to 
confound the simple , plain , and true colours of 
things ; and disturbs and displaces every thing , 
without replacing any thing. The weapons of 
discussion should not be permitted to those who 
have not the talent , the integrity , or the leisure 
to use them fairly. — 

There is nothing which gives one a more des- 
pondent view of human nature , than the impres- 
sion that principle and reasoning have nothing 
to do with practical life: — that they are mere 
ornament; well enough for the idle amusements 
of the closet , but not capable of being brought 
into use! 

If this be true , then this same principle and 
reasoning become subjects of odium and evil, 
because they are then the tools for deception and 
fraud to work with ! 

If it be said that sagacious common sense hits 
on right means, and aims at right results, in the 
conduct of human business, though it may not be 
easy to explain them by , or reconcile them to , 



GNOMIC A. CH. L. 115 

what is deemed correct principle and correct 
reasoning , then it must be inferred that man is 
intended to be governed hke brutes, by some- 
thing in the nature of instinct rather than of in- 
tellect ! 

Perhaps it will be answered, that all the objec- 
tions made to the impracticability of speculative 
opinions are solely directed against carrying 
them to unbending extremes ; and thereby allow- 
ving no exceptions or qualifications. 

But this is not accurate; the objections made 
are to the general truth of them: for though al- 
most ail principles will allow of some limitations; 
the general rule must be taken to be binding, 
till the ground of exception is clearly and strictly 
shewn. Whereas these practical Solomons insist 
upon the presumption being against the Sage of 
abstract Principle ; and arrogate to themselves 
the right of throwing the ojius probandi on him 1 
Hence they cannot without inconsistence deny , 
that the position to which they hold is this : that 
general reasoning and principles are to betaken 
as generally wrong ! ! ! There is another mode of 
varying the charge against the applicability of 
general truths, which these practical Solomons 
sometimes resort to. 

They raise a question of prudence and expe- 
diency as to time , place or person ! 

It may be admitted , that Truth is not to he 



116 GNOMICxi. CH. L. 

Spoken at all times , in all places , to all persons. 
But the reserve ought to be used very sparingly 
and cautiously. Sincerity and frankness are in 
general most beneficial virtues ; and the habitual 
practice of the contrary falls under the odious 
immorality of dissimulation or falsehood. If this 
be the foundation of the charge of want of judg- 
ment or common sense, it proves them to wish to 
substitute for them nothing else than heartless, 
selfish , and dishonorable cunning! 

mCome theny> the Solomons will now proceed 
to argue « let us bring all this subtle conflict of 
plausible argumentation to the only sound test : — 
the test of experience ! PFhat is the sort of sense y 
that succeeds in the world? Is it not the very 
sense which the men of abstract and speculative 
wisdom deer J? » 

Admit it: — Avhat does it prove? Why that 
wickedness is more calculated to succeed in the 
world , than virtue ! — That Deceit will be 
more prosperous than Integrity , and openness ! 
and that when the Solomons say that a man 
of high Genius wants that part of Intellect cal-' 
led Judgment, they mean that he wants that free- 
dom from conscience which adapts all the means 
and ends of the understanding to the accom* 
plishment of its own personal and selfish interests! 
If it be the effect of high talents, and the noble 
thoughts which almost always accompany high 



GNOMICA. CH. L. 117 

talents , to deal with mankind as if they were 
better than they are ; and thus to expose them- 
selves to defeat by placing confidence where it is 
not deserved , let not this be attributed to a want 
of judgment ; but to the self- sacrifice of Virtue ! 
It is the price which Virtue pays; — and the 
suffering which is to entitle it to part of its 
rewards ! If therefore the frailty of human nature 
may be forgiven for wanting this virtue , it is yet 
too much that \\i^ possession oi it should be made 
a charge liable to censure, and which may justify 
/// usage ! — 

Many things , which may be forgiven , cannot 
be defended: and he who not only commits errors, 
but obstinately persists in arguing them to be 
truths , is much more faulty for the second part 
of the offence than the first. If he cannot distin- 
guish truth from falsehood , he is an helpless 
fool : if he defends it in defiance of knowlege , 
he is still worse ! 

Hard men go often blundering on , pig-headed ; 
and find even Walls give v. ay before them : but 
if they should be near knocking out their brains 
at last , what colour have they for lamentation or 
abuse ? 

They are apt to mistake their hard-headedness 
for skill: and therefore encourcige in themselves 
a self-confidence, which leads them in the end to 
meet obstacles , or snares , or quagmires , which 



118 GNOMICA. CH. L. 

they cannot overcome. It is quite impossible that 
these men , who boast of their judgment or com- 
mon sense , should penetrate into the real lights 
of steerage, when they come inio the wide sea ; 
and when broad dayhght fails; and they lose 
the sight of land. — They know nothing of the 
internal movements of the human bosom ; they 
have no compass to direct them in unknown seas; 
they mistake appearances , not of ordinary or 
daily occurrence : The calm that precedes the 
tempest they suppose to be the presage of a long 
continuance of fair Aveather ; and they sport with 
their position in a blind and rash security. When 
the storm bursts, they rave, as if Providence had 
committed treason against their self-delusion ! — 

If real judgment in the conduct of human 
affairs be (as I conceive it ought to be) mainly 
occupied in the double task of deciding the pro- 
bable course of events under given circum- 
stances, and of choosing the rule of right ap- 
plicable to such events , then who can possess 
that degree of intelligent capacity , which is equal 
to this task, but one who has an intimate insight 
into the springs of human action ? Will it be pre- 
tended that these plodding fellows , to w^hom is 
ascribed this cool judgment and common sense, 
have any such insight ? 

If the opinions, here combated , were merely 
opinions thrown out in a particular case for a 



GNOMICA. CH. L. 119 

particular purpose , they might not be worth all 
this toil of ideas and words to combat them. 
The obvious partiaUty of the view that promp- 
ted them, might be left to be their sufficient 
answer. ■ — But they are opinions very exten- 
sively , very generally, if not universally, cheris- 
hed. The cause of this may be that they flatter 
the popular conceit ! 

The mass of mankind neither are , nor can be , 
conversant with abstract principles , and specu- 
lative wisdom. 

The idle mind , which takes every thing care- 
lessly as it comes; and makes itself the sport of 
whatever interest , or caprice , or folly , successi- 
vely throws up in the air , will sneer or smile at 
all this labour , ( or froth as it will call it , ) about 
nothing at all ! 

But if no one takes any pains to disperse the 
vapour , or bubbles , they will accumulate and 
conglomerate at last, till they sit upon the human 
understanding like a mantle of pestilential dark- 
ness ! • — 

Let them , who feel no irritation at such 
prevalence of error, lull themselves in their ease as 
long as they will ! I do not blame them. But if 
others cannot take it quite so quietly , let them 
have their own way ; and incur no censure for 
endeavouring to bring forward , what they deem 
to be truth ! 



120 GNOMICA. CH. LI. 

Moral doubts sit upon some minds like night- 
mares on the breast. There is no breathing till 
they are thrown off! — 



CHAPTER LI. 

Active and passive wickedness. 

7 June 1823. 

There are a portion of mankind who do not he- 
sitate habitually to commit evil for the purpose of 
gaining what ti.ey deem advantageous to them- 
selves : others only incur it occasionally, to escape 
from some personal pressure or infliction which 
they suppose still more painful or injurious to 
them , ti.an the fault into which an overpowering 
fear drives them. 

The former are actively vicious : the latter only 
passii>elj so. The former are the demons, who are 
allowed by the mysterious destinies of Providence 
to trouble , Avound , rob , and desolate society : 
the latter may be pitied and forgiven, if they can- 
not be esteemed. Ambition , love of power , of 
money , of pleasure ; pride ; vanity ; all prompt 
the restless and strong spirit , which has no cons- 
cience , to X\\\s prepense wickedness ! 

Undoubtedly tlie end they have in view is sure 
to disappoint them ; and they load themselves 



GNOMICA. CH. LII. 121 

with the giiilt without attaining the gratification 
which they expect. Innocent pleasures , on the 
contrary, if they fall short of our sanguine hopes, 
yet leave no sting behind them. 

Pleasures at once innocent and refined , such 
as occupation in the high and unmercenary de- 
partments of literature , do not seem to me con- 
sistent with habits of active evil. They offer but 
a remote , contingent , and improbable mode of 
gratifying vanity ; and they procure no sensual 
good : while they constantly awaken , and retain 
in a lively state of sensibility , that conscience 
which makes a state of criminal conduct a state 
of torment. 

Intellect may indeed be perverted to advocate 
and propagate error ; not to seek and develop 
truth. But then I am prepared to dispute , and , 
( I think , ) to disprove , that such an occupation 
belongs to the high departments of literature. 
Yet as this is a question of interminable extent , 
involving the most nice and profound distinctions 
between the uses and abuses of learning , it 
cannot be entered upon here. 

CHAPTER LII. 

Innocent pleasures. 

1823. 

Whether we may surrender ourselves to the 
innocent pleasures which life offers to us ; or 

16 



122 GNOMIC A. CH* Llh 

submit to uncongenial toils for the sake of that 
worldly advancement , which good men will 
seldom attain, is a subject on which moralists 
may differ ; but where the generous mind will 
lean to the former position. 

Let what is called the business of life be con* 
ducted by men of business : 

— a Coarse complexions > 
jdnd cheeks of sorrier grain » 

will do for that. Those nice apprehensions and 
exquisite sensibilities which belong to gifted 
and cultivated talent , those elevated ideas which 
raise the attention above the petty watchfulness 
necessary for defence against the wiles of dis- 
honesty and self-interest, are incompatible with 
the hard adroitness , the immoveable patience 
and dulness , by which common affairs are ma- 
naged. To put one above these things, is the best 
use of riches and birth and station. 
, On the different destinies and duties of Man, 
there is a noble sonnet by Milton. 

Our state of existence here affords no satisfac* 
tory enjoyment, which is not partly intellectual. 
The pleasure of the magnificence and the beauty 
of natural scenery would be very imperfect, if 
it ended with the gratification of the sight. The 
emotions , the reflections , and associations rai- 
ded internally by these images, are what consti- 



GNOMICA. CH. LII. 123 

tute the great and improving delight of them. 
To pass one's days in such an appUcation of the 
faculties of the mind, is a course of happiness 
which approaches at once to purity and grandeur. 

The mind is at liberty in the quiet of the 
country to examine its sentiments , to pursue its 
researches , and to digest its observations , un- 
disturbed and uninterrupted. It is by studying 
ourselves , by turning our attention inward upon 
those secret movements which we can only know 
from our own hearts , that we can arrive at a 
skill in the hidden springs of human conduct. 
Men engaged in the daily bustle of active life , 
in the feverish conflicts of society , have neither 
time nor calmness to examine any thing but that 
in which they are actually engaged. They cannot 
look to principles , so as to compare , or genera- 
lise ;. or extend their thoughts beyond the pres- 
sing expedience of the moment. 

!15ut by the side of all human pleasures , even 
the most innocent , there lurks some danger. 
This refined and delicious quiet , these hours of 
softening and elevating occupation , often ener- 
vate us , or render our sensibilities too acute for 
the necessary intercourse with the world , which 
the indispensible duties of society impose occa- 
sionally on all. The mind ought to have dominion 
over this material part of us :, — but still that 
dominion ought to be limited by some coun.- 



124 GNOMICA. CH. LIII. 

teracting controul from the circumstances to 
which our existence here is exposed. 

Positive happiness is quite impossible in this 
state of mortaUty. Goodness itself could not he 
entirely happy , while it would see so many 
others miserable. 

« Each has his sufferings : ail are men , 
Condemn d alike to groan ; — 

The tender for another's pain ; 
Th' unfeeling for his o(vn.:o 



CHAPTER LIII, 

Some fancies delight most in the images of artificial- 
institutions, 

1823. 

There are some ingenious men , whose fanciest 
and imaginations are almost exclusively delighted 
or interested with what is artificial , accidental , 
and temporary, especially in manners and society; 
and who do not find sufficient piquancy in the 
conduct, passions, sentiments, reflections, and 
reasonings common to our general nature. This 
was strikingly the case with a man of undoubted 
genius ; Horace Walpole, the third Earl ofOrford, 
His powers of combination were skilful and vivid^ 
but they were always historical , feudal , and 
aristocratical. He was a master of a rich store of 



GNOMIGA. CH. LIII. 125 

picturesque, striking, clear , well-arranged know- 
lege , set off by lively sallies of wit , and subtle 
remark: but it was all drawn from the particular 
operation of a particular class of the artificial 
institutions of past times. 

His friend and school-fellow Gray, though scar- 
cely less conversant with history , manners , and 
arts, yet had a genius of an higher kind, to which 
this knowlege was subordinate. It is true that it 
formed part of the materials of his Lyric poem , 
The Bard ; — but not the most poetical mate- 
rials : his Elegy, and his three great Moral Odes, 
rest all their force upon the images of Nature : 
and this is even still more striking in his sublime 
lyrical Fragment on Vicissitude^ in which I do not 
hesitate to pronounce the following stanza among 
the most perfect specimens , which the Poetry of 
any country can produce. . 

« Yesterday the sullen Year 

Saw the snowy whirlwind fly : 
Mute was the music of the air ; 

The herd stood drooping by : 
Their raptures now, that wildly flow , 

No Yesterday nor morrow know ; 
Tis man alone, that joy descries 

IVith forward and ra^erted eyes. » 

The fancy may be struck with a mighty Gothic 
mansion with its towers, embattlements , turrets , 



126 &NOIVIICA. CH. LIV. 

and spires : but if it be not at least equally struck 
with mountains , precipices , deep vallies, forests, 
seas , and lakes , one is apt to suspect that part of 
its susceptibility \s technical, d^nd. factitious. 

There is a quickness of talent, which by early 
and continued culture may be fanned into a kind 
of artificial heat , — ^ but which derives no fire 
from the heart. 



CHAPTER LIV. 

Imperfect thinking is painful ; and requires relief from the 
light of stronger minds, 

1823. 

A large portion of mankind pass their time in 
a state somewhat between sensation and thought: 
— a little beyond th^. first; but npt attaining the 
last. It is the business of literary genius to help 
this twilight state into clearness, and to draw for- 
ward this intellectual sensation into actual 
thought. 

The brightest minds do not, at all moments, 
themselves escape from the former of these states. 
A sort of indistinct, undeveloped pleasure, a suc- 
cession of indigested, unexamined, thoughts and 
images , occupies the brain , but makes no distinct 
impression; and still less leaves any trace which 
can be communicated or defined. 



GiJfOMICA. Ch. liv. 127 

Sometimes we are in a disposition of calm in- 
dolence , which is content with this half-sens^ual 
existence. But there is a spirit withtrrtis , which 
rouses us again , and reminds us that we are in- 
tellectual beings ; which awakens our curiosity ; 
and will not suffer us to pass unheeded the nu- 
merous subjects of contemplation , that solicit our 
notice* 

But weak and faint minds cannot conquer them 
by all their efforts: they require the lamp of 
higher capacities to lead them : they need the 
lines to be traced, and the forms embodied for 
them. Then , when these evanescent shapes are 
thus pictured to them , they acknowlege the like* 
ness , and flatter themselves that it is exactly con- 
sonant to their own previous perceptions^ 

There is nothing more painful and irritating 
than the perpetual alternation of feeble impres- 
sion and escape or evanescence ^ with which the 
faculties of perception and judgment of an half^ 
thinker are harrassed; It is a law of our nature to 
desire to understand what excites our attention : 
and so it is inherent in us^ (according to our en- 
dowments )) to experience some kind of mental 
movement at most of the objects that strike our 
senses. When our ideas are confused, and we are 
conscious of the confusion , we feel a self-abase- 
ment , resulting from the evidence of our own 
incapacity. But a luminous author is a magician 



128 GNOMIC A. CH. LV. 

who dissipates these clouds , and puts the depen- 
dent reader in good humour with himself. 

The charm does not work alone upon the rea- 
der : perhaps it has had the same effect upon the 
author. In the task of enlightening others , he 
often works his own thoughts out of crudeness 
into maturity , order , and transparency. Till we 
bring our conceptions to the test of language , we 
are not quite sure of our own mastery over them; 



CHAPTER LV. 

« Woes cluster. » 



8a3. 



It is a part of our mortal destiny , that misfor- 
tune should breed misfortune , and injustice 
breed injustice. He who can bear least , has most 
put upon him ; and time, instead of counteracting, 
gives force to calumny. He is like the wounded 
Deer , which all the rest of the herd attack. 

The world always supposes that the chances of 
rectitude and of wisdom are against him who is 
unsuccessful. Yet success depends more often 
upon an adaptation of conduct to the baseness of 
the world. He who believes mankind better than 
they are , will always lay his schemes in a way 
w^hich is likely to be frustrated. Sir Robert Wal- 
pole was a successful Minister , because he always 



GNOMIC A. CII. LVI. 129 

arranged his designs on a full conviction of the 
baseness of public men. Lord Chatham. , indeed , 
with a bolder and loftier genius, made his agents, 
by the fire of his resolves , what he wished them 
to be. 

The good however, who have not Lord Chat- 
ham's vigour, cannot alter the human character 
by their own more virtuous principles : if there- 
fore they give faith, where faith is not merited, 
they become the victims of perfidy and fraud. 
But who will pity them ? The deceiver will have 
not only all the gain; but all the credit and 
applause. 

In the strange caprices of human affairs even 
worldly skill will not always command success. 
But no man does prudently to complain : ..for if 
he tells the Public that he is unsuccessful , it will 
double its efforts against him* 



CHAPTER LVI. 

The development of Genius often accidental and unexpected. 

1823. 
Genius breaks forth under the most unfavou- 
rable circumstances ; and when it is least expec- 
ted : and it as often disappoints hope , after its 
future bloom has appeared most encouraging. 
High responsibility sometimes paralises effort; 

J7 



130 GNOMICA. CH. LVI. 

while he, who goes on gradually and calmly ^ 
advances imperceptibly even to himself, and 
attains his strength before he meets with a 
blight. 

But the existence of fithe gem^i (i) that is 
buried in « the deep caverns » of the soul , is fre- 
quently unsuspected, till accident brings it forth : 
and many go to the grave, without a guess on 
the part of others , or even of themselves , what 
a treasure they carry thither. There are flames 
of an early force , which will burst out in spite of 
all checks and obstacles : there are others , which 
though bright and powerful at last , are feeble in 
their origin , and require to be long nursed and 
cherished and impelled. 

Buried genius is always painful to him , in 
whose bosom it is closed. It seeks for free air; 
and to be hailed by the cheer of the human 
voice : it pines to ascertain its strength ; and try 
itself in rivalry with those who scorn or neglect 
it. Its habits, its morbid sensibilities, all tend the 
same way as if its powers were acknowledged ; 
yet without the same candid indulgence from the 
world. 

It is quite impossible that the feelings of feve- 
rish unvented genius should be calm. The ori- 
ginal and most vivid stores of the fancy must 

( ^) $ee Gray^s famous Stanza, i.^Full manj a gem-o etc. 



GNOMICA. CH. LVI. 131 

necessarily be in proportion to the susceptibility 
of the senses. The flame therefore must be lighted 
within: and if no opening is given it, must be- 
come dangerous. 

Burns , I remember , says , that the discharge 
of his feelings in poetical composition quieted 
his tumultuous bosom, which while he was brood^ 
ing over them was like a collecting tempest. It 
is an incident to the social part of our being : 
we always soften our griefs by the communication 
of them to others. The grief which cannot speak, 
is despair: 

Curce leues loquuntur : ingentes stupent. (i) 

It is sincere and unaffected emotion, which 
is one of the most decisive and indispensible 
marks of true poetical composition. If the poet 
does not both feel and communicate it , he fails 
in the powers of his high calling. 



CHAPTER LVII. 

Fame. 

9 June 1823. 

I have cited an hundred times, (but I cannot too 
often cite it,) the noble passage in Milton's Lycidas: 
« Fame is the spur, that the clear spirit doth raise 
To scorn delights , and live laborious days, » 

(*) See the opening of Tickell's noble Elegy on Addison.^ 



132 GNOMICA. CH. LVII. 

The desire of esteem, credit, kindness , praise, 
is indissoluble from the constituents of our being. 
But the spur that Milton speaks of , is the spur of 
a passion which has more extensive aims : vhich 
looks beyond the narrow circle of those with 
whom we associate , and whom we encounter in 
daily life. It is admitted that merit will not always 
secure the attainment of it : but then the deeds, 
to which it has prompted , survive , and are the 
secret consolation of him who has performed 
them. The following eloquent and majestic pas- 
sage by Johnson in his Life of Milton , is calcu- 
lated never to lose the power of imparting that 
glow of emotion , which its first perusal gives to 
every generous mind. 

« F<2/2Cf ( says the critic,) can hardly forbear 
to conjecture with what temper Milton swveyed 
the silent progress of his Paradise Lost , and 
marked its reputation stealing its way in a kind of 
subterraneous current through fear and silence. 
I cannot but conceive him calm and confident , 
little disappointed , not at all dejected , relying on 
his own merit with steady consciousness , and 
waiting without impatience the vicissitudes of 
opinion y and the impartiality of a future gene- 
ration. » 



i 



GNOMICA. CH. LVIir. 



133 



CHAPTER LVIII. 

Does noh'ditj in England spring from, or does it involve, 
brilliant personal merit? 

4 June 1823. 

In England not many great families have been 
enobled by the merits of eminent individuals; 
and still fewer , after being enobled , have pro- 
duced eminent men. 

The following have been raised to the peerage 
by the personal deserts of him on whom the ho- 
nour was first conferred. 



10. 



Leeds; 

Marlborough ; 
Dorset ; 
Wellington ; 
Salisbury ; 
Exeter ; 
Camden ; 
Bridgewater; 
Shaftesbury ; 
Nottingham ; 
Coventry ; 
Oxford ; 
Aylesford ; 
Cowper; 
Macclesfield • 
Warwick ; 



Tho. Osborne. 
John Churchill, 
Thomas Sack^ille, 
Arthur Welleslej, 
Robert CeciL 
William CeciL 
Charles Pratt. 
Thomas Egerton. 
Anthony Ashley Cooper. 
Heneage Finch. 
Thomas Coventry, 
Robert Harlej. 
Heneage Finch. 
JVilliam Cowper. 
Thomas Parker. 
Fulke Grenle. 



434 



GNOMIGA. CH. LVIIl. 



20. 



3o. 



40. 



Harcourt ; 
Hardwicke; 
Chatham ; 
Bathurst ; 
Talbot ; 
Mansfield ; 
Liverpool ; 
Malmesbury ; 
Clive; 
Nelson; "" 
Orford ; 
Whitworth; 
Eldon ; 
Bolingbroke ; 
Torrington ; 
Trevor ; 
Hood ; t 
Duncan ; f 
St. Vincent; 
Melville ; 
Lake ; f 
Sidmouth ; 
Clifford; 
King; 
Grantham ; 
Holland ; 
Hawke ; 
Walsingham ; 
Grantky ; 



t 



Simon Harcourt 
Philip Yorke. 
Williajn Pitt. 
Allen Bathurst, 
Charles Talbot. 
William Murray^ 
Charles Jenkinson. 
James Harris. 
Robert Clive. 
Horatio Nelson. 
Robert Walpole. 
Charles Whitworth. 
John Scott. 
Henry St. John. 
George Byng. 
Thomas Trevor. 
Samuel Hood. 
Adam Duncan-. 
John Jervis. 
Henry Dundas. 
Gerard Lake. 
Henry Addington. 
Thomas Clifford. 
Peter King. 
Thomas Robinson^ 
Henry Fox. 
Edward Hawke. 
William DeGrey. 
Fletcher Norton. 



GNOMICA. 


CH. L\III. 135 


Rodney ; * 


George Rodney, 


Dorchester; * 


Guy Carleton. 


Renyon; f 


Lloyd Kenyon. 


Amherst; "" 


J^ff'^^J Amherst, 


5o. Thurlow ; f 


Edward Thurlow. 


St. Helens; 


Alley ne Fitzherbert. 


Hutchinson; * 


John Hely Hutchinson, 


Sheffield ; 


John Baker Holroyd. 


Abercromby ; * 


Ralph Abercromby, 


Erskine ; f 


Thomas Erskine, 


Line do ch; * 


Thomas Graham, 


Hill ; ^ 


Rowland Hill, 


Beresford(Visc.);* 


William C. Beresford, 


Colchester; f 


Charles Abbot, 


60. Stowel ; f 


William Scott, 


Harris ; * 


George Harris. 


Oriel; f 


John Foster. 



NB. Those with this mark {f[) are modern lawyers. 
Those with this mark (*) are Army or Navy; — modern. 



Without speaking of the Living , or those very 
lately deceased , the most eminent of these are 
Sackville, the two Cecils, Egerton, Ashley^Cooper, 
Churchill, Pitt, Fox , Yorke, Talbot, Ring, Pratt, 
Clive , Nelson , Hawke , Rodney. All these are 
historical names ; and Sackville at least stands 
high in literature; while Chatham would have 
been a literary genius of a prime order , if he had 
not been a Statesman. 



136 GNOMIC A. CH. LVm, 

We come now to the eminent men , which 
famihes already enobled have produced. 



Surrey ; 
Worcester ; 
Bedford ; 

Devonshire ; 

Dorset ; i 

Cornwallis ; 
Bute; 

Shrewsbury; | 



Derby ; 

Pembroke ; 
Denbigh ; 
Stamford ; 
Winchelsea ; 
Chesterfield; 
Essex ; 
Carlisle ; 



( 



Henry Howard. (E.) 
Somerset ( M. of W.) 
William ( Ld. ) Russell. 
William Cavendish ( D,} 
Charles Cavendish, 
Charles Cavendish, 
Henry Cavendish (F, R, S^) 
Charles Sackville ( E. of D.) 
Charles Sackville ( E, ofM,) 
Charles Cornwallis. ( M.) 
John Stuart. ( E.) 
John Talbot (E.) 
Charles Talbot (D.) 
Tho. Stanley. (E.) 
Ferdinando Stanley, ( E.) 
J as Stanley. ( E. ) 
JTilliam Herbert. (E.) 
Henry Fielding. (Author.) 
Lady Jane Grey, 
Sir Hen, Finch, 
Philip Stanhope. (E.) 
Arth. Capel. ( E,) 
Charles Hoa>ard, (E. living.) 



(1) Author of the Century of Inventions. 



GNOMICA. CII. LVIII. 



137 



A A Cooper, C^.^ E.) 
Geo, Berkeley, f i.^^ E.) 
Geo. Villiers. (i.^ D.) 
( Ld.) Heri^ej. 
William Coivper , poet. 
Waldegrave. ( 3.^^ E.) 
Francis North, f i." lA G.J 
Fred. (i.^ Earl.) 
Phil. Yorke. (i.^ E.) 
Cha. Yorl^e. (L.C.) 
Pit. Hon. JFilliam Pitt. 
M.^^ Catherine Talbot. 
Piob. B. Jenkinson. (E. v.) 
Horace TValpole. (Z.^ E.) 
Richard Howe. ( \.^^ E.) 
Rob. Devereux. (i.^ E.) 
Rob. Trevor, (i.^'' F.) 
Geo. Clifford. (3.^E0 
A dm. Byron. 

Geo. G. Bjron. ( L.^ B. v.) 
Rt. Hon. Cha. J. Fox. 
Hen. Fox. ( L.^ H v.) 
Geo. Ljttelton. f i.^^ L.) 
Thomas Ljttelton. (i.^ L.) ^ 
LotelandHol-f John Percival. ( i.^ L.^) 
land; \ Rt. Hon. Spencer Percivah 

46. Wellesley ; JFelleslej. ( M. v.) 

It must be recollected that this regards th6 

existing Peerage,- Miiny celebrated men may be 

i8 



Shaftesbury; 
Berkeley ; 
Jersey ; 
Bristol ; 
Cowper • 
Walde grave ; 

Guilford ; J 

Hardwicke ; | 

Chatham ; 
Talbot ; 
Liverpool ; 
Orford ; 
Howe ; 
Hereford ; 
Hampden ; 
De Clifford; 

Byron ; | 

Holland ; | 

Lyttelton ; ] 



138 GNOMICA. CH, LVIIl. 

found among the families , which are extinct : 
such as Lord Bacon, Sir Philip Sydney, Lord 
Clarendon, Lord Somers, Edward Vere Earl of 
Oxford, Horace Lord Vere of Tilbury, Robert 
Dudley Earl of Leicester , William Pulteney Earl 
of Bath. 

The number of eminent persons contained in 
the two preceding Lists is about one hundred: —* 
and of these many must be admitted to belong 
to a very subordinate class of eminence. The 
names of Howard ( Earl of Surrey , ) Sackville , 
Pitt , Fox , Lyttelton , North , Yorke , Byron , 
Cavendish, Cooper, Cowper, Wellesley , will al- 
ways stand prominent. 

There is perhaps something torpifying in the 
operation of rank and titles : — because they 
secure respect without personal exertion. And 
who can arrive at mental or moral distinction 
without great exertion and toil ? 

It has not happened that they who have given 
their names to the Administrations of State-Affairs 
in the station of Premiers have always belonged 
to the first class of Talents. It was not the case 
with the Cecils , Osbornes , Bennets , Cliffords , 
Harleys , Walpoles , Pelhams, Butes , Grenvilles, 
Graftons , Rockinghams , Portlands , Percivals. A 
few of them held the hight post merely in right 
of their rank and property. Walpole was a singular 
instance of the power of mere downright solid 



GlN^OMICA. CH. LVIII. iSg 

and sagacious practical sense. The luminous com- 
prehension and noble decision of Pitt qualified 
him , in right of native endoAvment, to take the 
lead in directing the grand and complex move- 
ments of the stupendous machine of Politics , 
which had grown up in his day. Fox was more 
subtle, more acute, more refined, more original; 
but better formed to analyse , and object, than to 
propose ! 

The chances are, that a Being of the finest order 
of mind will shrink from the boisterous struggle , 
or hollow danger, of the sea of public politics ; 
which allows no moment of rest , nor any indul- 
gence of those nice feelings , or romantic senti- 
ments of honour , that cherish the fountain out of 
which issue the grander streams of the Mind. 

Moderate talents are never wanting to fill with 
decency, but without distinction, those secondary 
offices to which birth and property elevate the 
members of powerful families. 



CHAPTER LIX. 

The matter of literary composition more important than 

the worhmanship . 

lo June 1823. 



Few authors place their merit upon the novelty 
and sterling value of their materials : writers in 
general rely on the skill of the workmanship. Yet,^ 



140 GNOMIC A. CII. LIX, 

if both cannot be had , the first is surely of vastly 
imore importance than the last. It requires more 
strength and self-confidence than authors com- 
monly possess , to look into life and their own 
experiences , rather than into books , for the 
sources of what they put into their literary pro- 
ductions. 

It is the destiny of some to live for the purpose 
of developing the invisible links, that tie the ma- 
terial to the immaterial world. 

A clear apprehension , and a good judgment , 
aided by memory, enable persons, totally deficient 
in genius, to write not uncreditable books, of tem- 
porary interest and use. VV hat they write, however, 
is almost always drawn , mediately if not imme- 
diately ^ from authors whp have preceded them , 
even though it should have been more directly 
qaught from oral information. 

But tlie highest genius will not bring forth fruit 
without long and toilsome culture. 



CHAPTER LX. 

A clear view of our condition. Proper estimate of Riches. 

lO June 182,3. 

^Nothing is more comfortless than to travel tlie 
paths of life in a state of blindness of all around 
us ; ignorant of our relative positions ; and of tiie 



GNOMIC A. CH. LX. l4l 

various duties required of ourselves and others. 
It is a disquietude , whicli keeps us in equal 
anxiety, when we ought to be content, and when 
we ought to be watchful , and to exert ourselves 
for a change. 

What to desire, and what to avoid, is the prime 
knowlege in our journey through this bewildered 
existence. What dazzles us in life , is almost 
always a delusive light. Calmness , reflection , 
sedate consideration ;, and dispassionate balance, 
of the good and evil of what inflames our wishes 
and solicits our choice in the passage , is an habit 
of virtuous and wise mental discipline, which 
cannot be too much encouraged and assisted. 

Vv^'e ought to learn that rank, dignities, and 
riches cannot make us happy, unless the mind be 
duly enlightened and regulated. All the most 
acute and most permanent pleasures of our exi^ 
stence are equally open to ail equality of intellect, 
independent of adventitious possessions and ad- 
vantages, if the mighty Noble blazing in his 
wealth turns with scorn from the simple dress 
and humble shed of the genius unendowed with 
territory or revenue, the genius can turn with 
scorn at least as profound from the imbecillity 
andliollowness of intellectual gift, or acquirement 
wLlcii tuat deceitful wealth covers. In the latter 
case the disappointment is accompanied by some- 
thing like the disgust one feels at tue fraud of 
false appearances! 



142 G.\OMJCA. CH. LX. 

There is in titles and riches a tendency to 
enervate ; and to make the possessor content 
without exertion. But the powers of the mind 
will not expand tiiemselves witiiout the applica- 
tion of both labour and skill. Some strong im- 
pulse is necessary. Of those who already enjoy 
distinction without pains , how much is the 
impulse weakened ! — 

TiiC value of riches would be inestimable , if we 
knew iiow to use tiiem. Pope ascribes to the first 
Lord Batiiurst 

(( The sense to value riches , with the art 
To enjoy them , and the virtue to impart ; 
Not meanly , nor ambitiously pursued , 
Not sunk by sloth ^ nor raised by servitude, y) (*) 

It is a noble panegyric; and was, I believe, 
justly bestowed. (-) 

It does not cost any mighty expenditure of 
faculties to fill the memory with stores of what 
others have written or said : but perhaps it re- 
quires more tlian a sound judgment to apply them 
properly : and how much greater talents still , to 
originate such as is thus borrowed ! — 

(^) Moral Essays. Ep. iii. v. 219 — 222. 

(2) Allen Earl Batlmrst was created a Peer in 171 1 ; and 
died at a great age, 1775. I know not if he was himself 
possessed of great abilities : he was a wit : — and it is 
something to be even the companion of men of genius. — fl 



GNOMIC A. CH. LXI. l43 



CHAPTER LXI. 



Taste abundant compared with Genius: but even Taste not 
general. 

27 June 1823. 

It may be observed that if Genius be rare , and 
the sensations and emotions of Genius rare , few 
can sympathise with the pictures of its thoughts 
and feelings. But if the actwe quaUties of Genius 
are rare , the passive qualities are not sparingly 
bestowed. Great numbers can have those senti- 
ments , feelings , and images , awakened in them 
by others, which they cannot themselves origi- 
nate: — just as present images deligLt and agitate 
them , which , when removed , they cannot by 
their own act recall with any vivacity. They can 
recall them by the aid of others , even in their 
absence. 

These, I presume, are the persons , to whom 
is , on^ this account , assigned the quality of 
Taste : — persons of a minor and less plastic 
sensibility ; — but refined , judicious, and well- 
directed. 

Even these , however , are not so numerous as 
the world wishes to believe. It has been ascer- 
tained , since the controul of authority has been 
a good deal dismissed from the public mind , that 
the Public sympathises principally with Avhat is 
coarse , or trifling , or sensual, or extravagant, or 



144 GNOMICA. CH. LXn. 

superficial, or erroneous. It loves art for art's 
sake; and delights in the glaring marks of thatj 
of which the principal merit lies in concealing 
itself. 

In every age has there been a resort to artifice, 
as a substitute for that Genius , which in every 
age is so rare. It is the same with Taste: they who 
have not the reality , endeavour to acquire and 
indulge that which is factitious* 

The fruits of Truth and Wisdom, of Genius 
and of Taste , are unfading and eternal : the fruits 
of factitious and forced ingenuity have in their 
very essence the seeds of early death and oblivion. 



CHAPTER LXIL 

The truth of Theory not impeached by occasional instances 
of the erroneous conduct of its promulgator. 

28 June 1823. 

It has been already said , in a former chapter, 
that what is not practically true cannot be theorem 
tically true. But it does not follow , that he who 
thinks truly and wisely, always acts truly and 
wisely. Our passions may blind us in the appli* 
cation of our own wisdom to our own case. Our 
will may not obey our conviction, and our desires 
may impell us to run hazards in defiance of our 
reason. 



GNOMIC A. CH. LXit* 145 

In tlie history of Genius and Talents therefore, 
it has sometimes appeared that men possessed of 
the most enhghtened wisdom , and the most pro- 
found reason, have conducted themselves with 
a folly and imhecillity , of which even common 
men could not , except rarely , have been guilty. 
Such were several traits in the life of the illus- 
trious and unrivalled Bacon. 

Still, he who thinks with elevation, purity^ 
and rectitude , must , where great temptation 
does not derange his reason ^ be elevated , pure, 
and right in the general tenor of the intellectual 
part of his existence* And let not the cold-hearted 
and hard-headed flatter themselves that it is suffi- 
cient to act with an ordinary correctness ; which 
perhaps common sense and common example, 
may shew them to be the path of self-interest ! -— 
The mind must also be virtuous and pure : the 
thoughts must be generous, refined, and intel- 
ligent : the heart must be benevolent, tender j 
and aspiring! 

If a strong imagination operates violently on an 
heart of sensibility ; such an heart also re-acts 
forcibly on a powerful imagination. It is not easy 
therefore j when these are united in large portions^ 
to avoid those occasional excesses of intellectual 
delusion , which mean cunning and cautious 
prudence delight at once to condemn, to ridicuk , 
and to profit by* 

* 19 



1^6 GNOMIC A.. CII^ LXIL 

Men of artificial minds are not equally in 
danger of these delusions. Their labours have 
little concern with the heart : they are executed 
by that part of the mental faculties, which is called 
the intellect^ directing the imagination into whim- 
sical and unnatural combinations. 

Nothing , which is not true , — ( that is , con- 
sistent with poetical probability , ) — can proceed 
from , or affect the heart. No representation of 
manners such as never existed, nor can exist, 
can convey instruction ; or even any durable 
amusement. To invent without regard to truth 
or nature , is as easy as it is misleading. 

If Truth did not furnish the same sources of 
interest , of emotion , and grandeur , as these 
capricious and improbable inventions ; if all the 
objects of Truth were exhausted , and had be- 
come trite , then some excuse might be found for 
the indulgence in these tasteless whims. But 
Truth is inexhaustible : its subjects of distinc- 
tion , combination , and description , exceed the 
reach of all the variety of Genius and knowlege , 
which has ever yet appeared ; or is ever likely to 
appear. 



GNOMICA. CM. LXITI. l47 

CHAPTER LXIII. 

Knowlege of what men are, better fitted for success in the 
world , than hnowlege of what they ought to be. 

28 June 1823. 

The understanding , which is exercised in ac- 
quiring the knowlege of what mankind are in 
fact, is much better fitted to succeed in the 
world , than that which is employed in discove- 
ring and elucidating what they ought to be I 

Yet the first is commonly debased by its habi- 
tual intercourse with those to whom its attention 
is directed : while the other elevates itself into 
an higher order of existence by its constant con- 
templation of what is refined , lofty , and grand. 

Never yet was any human Being utterly un- 
touched by the contagion of that, with which he 
has had perpetual intercoui^se. 

Let us , on the contrary , survey Milton inces- 
santly brooding, through the days and nights 
of many a dark and calamitous year, on his immor- 
tal task of Paradise Lost I All his images and 
conceptions must have been impregnated with 
the glory and magnificence of the Creation , on 
which his mind was occupied! He could only 
behold Wickedness in its grandeur , its courage , 
ambition , and openness : — not in its groveling 
artifices, underminings, frauds, and falsehoods! 



148 GNOMIC A. CH. LXIII. 

Therefore he was left iu poverty, neglect, and 
privation; in an humble and mean state; scorned 
and trampled on by yulgar Greatness ; and unr 
cheered by the voice of Wordly Fame ! 

The higher pursuits of Genius were never yet 
pursuits, which led to wordly exaltation : and, 
T am firmly persuaded , never will be ! — 

Indignation is the common and perpetually- 
excited feeling of a noble mind , when it meets 
Avith what is base. Yet if it does not disguise this 
indignation, it raises enemies too numerous to 
be resisted : if it does disguise it , it will soon 
cease to feel it ! — 

All history illustrates the success of those cha- 
racters Avho have taken advantage of their know- 
Icge of the weaknesses of human nature. Thus 
Sisinondi draws with great force the character of 
Mattheu Visconti, ( Le Grand) Prince of Milan ^ 
who died 1 3^ i . « C^est par ses talens politique s , 
Dar sa connoissance profonde du cceur humain , 
des interets et des passions de tons ceux quit 
vouloit conduire; cest par son cahne au milieu 
de V agitation , par sa promptitude a se determiner 
et sa Constance apoursuii^re son but; c est par son 
habilete a feindre , souvent a tromper ; par son 
talent pour assujettir des caracteres rebelles ^ pour 
dominer des esprits indomptables , quil s'ele^a 
par-dessus tous les princes de son temps, » (^) 

(1) Ital. Rep. V. 53. See also the Author's LeUers froim 
the Continent, 1821, p. i33. 



GKOailCA. CH. LXIV, l49 

CHAPTER LXIV. 

The same observations applied to literature. 

28 June 1823. 

The same observations , which are appUcable 
to the means of success in the world , are appU- 
cable also to the means of success in literature. 
To be popular , it is necessary to conform to the 
vulgarity of popular taste. In fabulous invention , 
the characters are most interesting to the mob , 
which are most like themselves : or which by the 
most exaggerated degree of extravagance are 
most calculated to rouse their sluggish faculties. 
To elicit nice traits in the moral movements of 
our mysterious nature , is to deal in evanescent 
distinctions which they cannot perceive. To 
describe those noble swellings of awakened sen- 
sibility , which the conflicts of life are frequently 
drawing forth from minds highly endowed and 
highly cultivated , seems to them a sort of bom- 
bast , in Avhich there is more pretence than mea^ 
ning. They consider nothing , which is not fami- 
liar and ordinary , to be sincere and real : — and 
when they deal in what they suppose to be facti- 
tious , the more factitious and unnatural it is , 
the better they like it! — 

What is true , and what is dignified , cannot 
surely be a subject of doubt to any sound mind* 



150 GNOMICA. CII, LXIV, 

There are moments of sober and aweful thought, 
when we reject all vain affectations, and capri- 
cious fancies; when we seek to be acquainted 
with our nature , such as it is ; and to acknowlege 
no delusions. Then idle mirth , and jokes which 
do not belong to the real concerns of life, are 
rejected as false and injurious colourings ; and we 
seek to exercise our imaginations and our sym- 
pathies only where experience proves that they 
ought to be called forth ; and uhere it improves 
our know lege and enlightens our reason to exer- 
cise them ! — 

But the multitude of mankind have not by 
culture and discipline brought themselves to this 
state of intellect. Thinking is not with them a 
task : they escape from the coarser occupations 
of life into the lighter regions of thought, merely 
for recreation : and \\ hatever is grave , or reminds 
them of their dicfects, would be penance; — not 
amusement ! 



CHAPTER LXV. 

The guide of leading minds is necessary. 



5 Feh. 1823. 



It is quite idle to assume that the generality of 
minds do not want guides in the wilderness of 
thought. Leading opinions are as land-marks^ 



GNOMICA. CH. LXV. 151 

that point forward , as ^vell as bacla^ arcl. But 
they \^ ant to be perpetually renewed ; and per- 
petually new-pointed. 

I search incessantly in great authors , for gene- 
ralisations , axioms , and broad outlines. 

The knowlege of the comparative value of 
characters, and authorities; of ambitions, and 
wishes , and stations ; and modes of sentiment , 
and rules of action ; is almost as necessary , as it 
is ornamental and gratif) ing. Thousands are ca- 
pable of being taught , who are not capable of 
discovering the truth. 

Sometimes there is a slumbering spark in the 
mind, \a hich the application of a ray from another's 
mind draws up into light. 

Want of self-complacence and discontent are 
the results of a partial , narrow , and ignorant 
view of things. 

Rectitude of thinking , and rectitude of feeling, 
mutually act , and re-act on each other. 



CHAPTER LXVL 

The beaten path, the most happy. 

3 June 1 823. 

I am inclined to believe that a man would do 
well for his own happiness , never to quit the 
beaten path: *— but if I admit this, I must admit 



152 GNOMICA. CH. LXVI. 

that happiness consists in the absence of genius oi* 
talents : for genius and talents never did , and 
never will confine themselves to beaten paths. 
To examine , explore , and make new efforts , is of 
the essence of these qualities. In the mean time 
they incur hazards and disappointments, to which 
the beaten path would never have exposed them. 
Yet it cannot be conceded , that speculation , and 
reasoning , and a resort to principles , ought to 
be considered as matter of mere curiosity and 
amusement; and not be attempted to be applied 
practically. 

It is true that the most ingenious , plausible , 
and apparently conclusive reasoning often over^ 
looks some ingredient or circumstance , which 
operates practically, and which therefore justifies 
the opinions which have been taught by expe- 
rience. But if we were to make no attempts at 
advancement in knowlege on. this account, we 
should first be stationary , and then retrograde* 
It is only by repeated deductions from principles, 
and repeated trials of them by the test of expe- 
rience , that we can arrive at the numerous pro- 
found and deeply laid truths , which amend and 
exalt our nature. Particular failures are the price 
we must pay for knowlege and extended wisdom* 
Genius , especially in youth , is apt to carry 
this adventrous spirit much too far for its own 
quiet or safety. Cunning and self-interest is always 



GNOMICA. GH. LXVli. 153 

on the watch to urge it into snares : to make it 
pay the cost , and then to defraud it of the ad- 
vantages. There is no contending with cold- 
blooded, hypocritical , Proteus-like artifice. 

They , who have no sincerity, whose weapons 
are simulation and dissimulation , are sure fabri- 
cators of their own selfish fortunes ; — but they 
are a curse to society ! — 



CHAPTER LXVII. 

Opposition between the speculative and practical skill of 
Genius. 

28 July 1823. 

Either nature implanted in me , or habit and 
indulgence of fanciful wishes has nourished in me^ 
a strong and wild ambition , iinited with a sensi- 
tiveness and unfitness for the bustle of the world 
and the roughnesses of contest , which have ren- 
dered the success and pursuit of the objects of 
that ambition at once unavailing and in the high- 
est degree painful ! — 

There are certain subjects , dn which nothing 
less than the observations of severe experience 
will correct the generous errors of Imagination. 
They who are prudent and suspicious in youth ^ 
are cold and hard-hearted in old age, 

20 



154 GNOMICA. CH. Lllio 

In the closet , the judgment of a man endued 
with warm sensibiUty may operate : because there 
he is in a state of tranquilUty. — But long fami- 
liarity and custom alone , can enable such a mind 
to exercise its understanding with due self-posses- 
sion in the irritation of crowds and the turmoil 
of action. 

A man may be endowed with the powers and 
principles of strong judgment : but it requires 
toil , care , and exercise , applied to a particular 
subject, to enable his judgment to be skilful on 
that subject. 

It always seems a question with the mob , how 
a man , if his great talents are admitted , could 
have failed to be successful? — They therefore, 
cannot , when unsuccessful , have belief in the 
greatness of his talents ! — But for the reason I 
have given , and for an hundred others , great 
talents may not be practically successful. — 

Nine hundred and ninety out of every thou- 
sand men , are men whose talents are made by 
their occupations : therefore made almost mecha- 
nically. Such men perform their parts decently ; 
— disgracing nothing, and improving nothing. 
They take things as they find them : they never 
think for themselves ; and they do , as they are 
bid ! — 

Acuteness of mind , and the practical applica- 
tion of it , do not always concur. 



GNOMICA. CH. LXVII. 155 

A feeble or perverse temper may be connected 
with a strong intellect : and morbid and pusilla- 
nimous nerves with a bold spirit, and with aspi- 
ring , adventurous, thought : — while a firm and 
equal self-confidence is sometimes wanting to the 
most brilliant talents. 

Sometimes young men of ardent, enthusiastic, 
mental powers have at their early age judgments 
solid and accurate in speculative points , but 
erroneous as far as regards the manner of uniting 
those speculations with realities. The presence of 
the objects themselves deranges their ideas : and 
they become unskilful, blundering, confused, 
and sometimes absurd. As age advances , this 
liability to derangement gradually subsides: their 
ideas take that precision and certainty, which can 
be taught them only by experience and practice; 
and they become composed , self-confident , and 
firm. 

It may be doubted , how far this uncounterac- 
ted inaptitude for society may arise out of acci- 
dental circumstances : viz. how far it may arise 
from a want of opportunity to live in society; 
and how far from a disinclination and abhorrence 
to it 1 — 

In some , nothing but age can cure this irrita- 
ting and tumult-raising effect of Society : — in 
some not even age can cure it ! — but the major 
part can be cured by familiarity with society at 
any age. 



456 CrNOMICA.. CH. LXVII. 

That knowlege , however , which is derived 
from practice , will , if it has no foundation in 
ability , go but a little w ay. 

The calmest mind, the mind of the least feeling, 
will soonest derive the benefits of experience : 
but its effects will be the least deep ; and its pro- 
gressive improvement will soonest terminate, 
That which is calm at first , will be dull at last. 
Excessive susceptibility is an obstacle at first: 
but afterwards the source of all that is eloquent 
and great. 

To indulge high ideas of what men ought to 
be , misleads and deludes when we begin our 
intercourse with them : but is in the end the sti- 
mulus to impel, irnprove, and command mankind! 

An high imagination , undamped by proof to 
the contrary , exalts the power and the virtue of 
others. In proportion as the disclosure of the 
reality lowers our preconceptions , and corrects 
our exaggerated and romantic estimates , we rise 
in our own opinion , while others in the same 
degree fall! — Self-confidence injures him in 
whom it has no proper base : — but to him who 
has a foundation to support it , it is of primary 
use ! In proportion therefore as he comes to an 
accurate knowlege of mankind , his chance of 
success augments. 

All these things shew that genius and talent 
must always be estimated with due indulgence 



GNOMICA, CH, LXVII. 157 

for any apparent inconsistency in practice. So 
many accidental circumstances must concur to 
the happy and successful development of them , 
that we must not be surprized that they often 
fail , where great expectations had been ratio- 
nally raised regarding them. 

Of those men whose talents are of a slow 
growth , we are apt to suspect the superiority to 
be the result of labour and acquirement. Genius 
generally shews incontestible marks of its exis- 
tence even at a very early age : tho' an inter- 
course with the world may often for a time 
overset , or check it. 

Yery few are so dull and impotent in ability, 
as not to be capable by the means of toil and 
industry to master what are called the technical 
acquisitions of literature. But he who can only 
do this, can add nothing to the stores of human 
knowlege. 

There is a very wide difference between great 
talent and great shrewdness. The latter may re- 
sult from nicety and closeness of observation 
united to a familiarity with a constant suspicion , 
and predominant thoughts of evil. Great talent 
may have exercised itself in what is possible, 
what is right , and what is noble ! — in schemes 
for the improvement of human nature; and the 
exaltation of human morals! — 

But ability is shewn in innumerable ways, even 



158 GNOMIC A. CH. LXVIir. 

where it fails to give worldly wisdom: while 
plodding mechanical sense often serves us much 
more effectively in the intercourse with actuat 
life. 



CHAPTER LXVIII. 

Honours of Birth independent of Riches. 

I July 1823. 

Either there is , or there is not a value and an 
honour in splendid descent. - — If there is , it is 
independent oi Riches. Otherwise a man's descent 
may be valuable and honourable to him one half 
his life : and the same descent valueless and 
honourless the other half : for he may be rich the 
first half ; and have lost his property the second 
half ! — But if it be contended , that Riches only 
influence the honour and value up to a certain 
point, then who is to draw the line ? who is to 
determine , wdiere it is to begin and where it is 
to end ? — 

That which most rationally is requisite to confer 
the stamp of value on descent , '\% personal merit. 
It is from the persojial merit of the Ancestor, 
that the lustre is supposed to be derived : and it 
is in the inference which it raises of the personal- 
merit of the descendant , that the wise will place- 
the weight which they give to it. 



GNOMICA. CII. LXIX. 159 

If we do not allow Riches justly to confer emi- 
nence , how can we reasonably allow eminence to 
be conferred by a descent from Riches ? 

Perhaps if Riches be not that which confers 
the stamp , it may be pretended to be eldership , 
or possession of the title ? — Did not then Mr. 
Pitt derive as much honour from the blood of his 
father Lord Chatham , as his elder brother the 
present Earl ? — 

And how shall we settle the scales of personal 
merit ? Are men to be tried solely by the public 
stations they fill? by their intercourse with active 
life ? 



CHAPTER LXIX. 

Genius improperly defined by Johnson to he a General 
capacity accidentally applied, 

29 July 1823. 

What Johnson has said in his Life of Coivley 
regarding Genius carries such weiglit with it in 
right of the just fame of the autlior, that, even 
though it is clearly erroneous, it requires more 
than ordinary force and authority to produce a 
confutation of it which shall alter the public opi- 
nion ; and the more so , because it is a doctrine 
which flatters the prejudices and passions of 
secondary minds* 



160 G]>rOMlCA. CH. LXIX. 

In the course of a literary life somewhat exten- 
ded , I have always taken every opportunity to 
protest against this doctrine ; and to endeavour 
to disprove it. It would be tedious to repeat the 
arguments which I have so often urged ; but I am 
happy to cite the concurrence of a very popular 
and most able work in the positions which I have 
always maintained. 

« From the time that Mr. Locke exploded in- 
nate ideas in the comm.encement oj the last cen- 
tury , there began to be a confused apprehension 
in some speculative heads y that there could be no 
innate faculties either; and our half metaphysi- 
cians have been floundering about in this notion 
ever since: as if, because there are no innate 
ideas , that is j no actual impressions existing in 
the mind without objects , there could be no pecu- 
liar capacity to receive them from objects ; or as 
if there might not be as great a difference in the 
capacity itself as in the outward objects to be im- 
pressed upon it. IVe might as well deny , at once , 
that there are organs or faculties to receive im- 
pressions j because there are no innate ideas , as 
deny that there is an inherent difference in the 
organs or faculties to receive impressions of any 
particular kind. If the capacity exists (which it 
must do) , there may , nay we should say there 
must , be a difference in it , in different persons , 
and with respect to different things. To alledge that 



GyoTiicx. en. lxix. 161 

there is such a difference , no more implies the 
doctrine of innate ideas , than to say that the brain 
of a man is more fitted to discern external objects 
than a block of marble , imports that there are 
innate ideas in the brain , or in the block of 
marble. The impression , it is true , does not exist 
in the sealing-wax till the seed has been applied 
to it: but there was the previous capacity to receive 
the impression ; and there may be, and most pro- 
bably is , a greater degree of fitness in one piece 
of sealing-wax than in another. That the original 
capacity , the aptitude for certcdn impressions or 
pursuits , should be necessarily the same in diffe- 
rent instances J with the diversity that we see in 
inens organs , faculties , and acquirements of 
various kinds, is a supposition not only gratuitous, 
but absurd. There is the capacity of animals ^ of 
idiots y and of half idiots and of half -madmen^ of 
various descriptions; there is capacity in short , 
of all sorts and degrees ^ from an oyster to a 
Newton : Yet we are gravely told, that wherever 
there is a power of sensation , the genius must be 
the same , and would , with proper cultivation , 
produce the same effects. No, say the French 
materialists ; but in minds commonly well orga- 
nised ( communement bien organises ) , the re- 
sults will , in the same circumstances , and with 
the same average capacity be the same : there will 

21 



162 GNOMICA. OH. LXX. 

be the same average degree of genius or imheci* 
lity — which is just an identical proposition, » etc* 



« There are , beyond all dispute , persons who 
have a talent for particular things , which accor- 
ding to D.^ Johnson's definition of genius, proceeds 
from u greater general capacity accidentally deter- 
mined to a particular direction I But this , instead 
of solving ^ doubles the miracle of genius ; for it 
leaves entire all the former objections to inherent 
talent^ and supposes that one jnan of large general 
capacity is all sorts of genius at once, » etc. Edin^ 
burgh Review y Art, Life of Sir J, Reynolds , voL 
XXXIV. p, 83 — 85. 



CHAPTER LXX. 

The value of Independence. 

5 Jag. 1823. 

Whoever has Hved long enough to have much 
commerce with the world , must have found 
from experience , that he who relies upon others 
places his faith on a weak and failing anchor. 

It was under the weight of this painful convic- 
tion, that on 7 Jan. iBaS, I wrote the fragment 
of a Poem , from which the following Stanzas are 
selected. 



GNOMICA. CH. LXXI. 163 

I. 

If the calm wisdom, which in sober age 
Teaches the mazy paths of Hfe to thread, 

In youth were ours , we by a gradual stage 
Should gently journey to our mortal bed! 

2. 

False faith, false hopes, false pleasures lead us on; 

Till deep entangled in delusion's net, 
( The moment of escape forever gone , ) 

In lasting chains of ruin we are set! 
3. 
For wild desires , which, when possess'd, bestow 

Scarce a short moment of uncertain joy. 
We pay long lingering years of certain woe. 

Which patience cannot soothe , nor prayer 

destroy ! 

4- 

To catch the favour, that will never come; 

To win the praise , that is an idle sound , 
On others' wanton will we fix our doom ; 

And in the yoke of servitude are bound ! 

^' 
O. 

There is no bliss , but on ourselves depends ; 

There is no mercy in another's heart ; 
No anchor-ground in hearts of fickle friends ; 
No fountain , that will aid in need impart ! 
6. 
The feeblest power in hand , ( which prudence 

heeds 
Too lightly, the most humble wish to fill,) 



164 GNOMICA. CH. LXXI. 

In true substantial value far exceeds 

The chance of emph^es at another's will ! 
etc. etc. 



CHAPTER LXXI. 

Cunning and Selfishness. 

24 May 1823. 

Of all men the most heartless and contemptible 
are cunning men: men cdvise in their generation, » 
as the world calls them : men , who care for 
nothing but as it seems to promote their own 
private interests. 

We could not have implanted in us such a 
longing after abstract truth , but for some good 
purpose : and such a delight in thoughts and 
sentiments intrinsically noble and touching ! 
There are minds, to which these are as necessary, 
as food to the body. 

Is there then any use in admiring grandeur 
and virtue , which we do not practise ? 

To this it may be observed that some are made 
for speculation , and some for action : some for 
matters of use ; and some for matters of orna- 
ment: some to work; and some to enjoy! — 
l]ut idleness is not happiness : and forced em- 
ployment not always misery. Left at our free 
will , we too often brood on our own evils; or 



GNOMICA. CH. LXXI. 165 

sink into a languor , which is worse than positive 
pain. 

To suppose it sufficient to be furnished with 
the knowiege of vhat is of mere necessity, is 
mean and grovehng. Our animal wants , and the 
management of a material existence, may be sup- 
plied or directed by a very small quantity of in- 
tellect. But the selfish think all beyond this to 
be a waste of faculties, in occupations at best 
amusing ; and generally empty and fruitless. 

The glory of self-benefit reflected back from 
the performance of usefulness to others , is the 
true and virtuous principle of action. 

It is the consciousness of having deserved well 
of the Public , which cherishes our self-compla- 
cence , and enables us to bear with neglects and 
privations. 'No one likes to be a cypher : it is a 
feeling of repugnance innate in the hnman bosom: 
The love of distinction is a spring to honourable 
actions. 

But how few can gain real distinction ? 



CHAPTER LXXI I. 

Biesj Novels. 

■-'] June 1S23. 

Readers love biography and history , because 
they seem to teach by experience , rather than 



J66 GriomiCA. cii. lxxiii. 

by speculation , and theory. They Hke to contem- 
plate what is embodied; not what is abstract. 
They therefore like all incident and character in 
Tales ; not sentiment and opinion. And thus 
the style and manner of Werter has ceased to be 
fashionable. For the same reason common readers 
prefer y«rce.y , and ballets ^ and what is called 
stage-scenerj , to regular Plays which address the 
understanding and the heart ; such as those of 
Shakespeare and Otway. 

There is a sort of ideal life , which may perhaps 
amuse , if it does not instruct the mind : some- 
thing affecting to be the representation of reality 
without being so : something which enlivens by 
change and novelty ; and refreshes the \yorn 
out thoughts : something which is chearfut , and 
does not agitate too much those bosoms, which 
only want ease. 



CHAPTER LXXIII. 

In what manner a Poet should write his own Life. 

1 July 1823. 

Were a Poet to write his own Life , tlie reader 
ought to require that he should state frankly his 
taste , amusements , and inclinations ; his habits , 
his hopes, and disappointments; the characters, 
with wiiom he has been conversant; his own calm 



GWOMICA. CH. LXXIII. 167 

and experienced judgment on the line of ambi- 
tion he has pursued; and the mode he has adop- 
ted of effecting his views ; and the pleasures and 
pains , which life has brought upon him. 

The reader would thence judge whether he 
was a poet by nature or by accident : whether 
his feelings made him so ; — or only his ambi- 
tion 1 — 

It is the heart, operated on by the Fancy ^ 
which makes a Poet. 

The heart thus throws back its impulses on 
the Fancy , and urges it to a nea> combination of 
its images: — and hence comes Invention. 

Art then can never make a poet : nor is it at 
the will and option of the human intellect , whe- 
ther it will cultivate and attain poetical imagery, 
and poetical feeling. 

No accidental studies nor occupations can 
change the nature of that original vividness of 
fancy , and susceptibility of emotion , which is 
the gift of Providence to the Individual Being. 

He , whose Fancy is bright and whose sensibi- 
lity is strong, need not necessarily put his visious 
and his emotions into language : but till some 
powerful concurrence of circumstances over- 
comes his nature , he will always be susceptible 
of them. 

Every one can try his own taste , sentiments , 
and thoughts by tests which are not capricious. 



168 GIVOIVIICA. CH. LXXIV. 

He can ascertain whether he heartily sympathises 
with those whom the consent of Ages Las decided 
to be the most noble , the most tender , and the 
most wise ; or with those more common authors 
whom Fame has placed in a lower station. He 
can then compare, ( perhaps with less certainty,) 
his own feeble efforts at execution with theirs. 

But he may make himself easy , that what were 
deemed the excellencies of the human mind in 
former ages , will continue to be so , through ail 
future times. It is not reserved for a late period 
of society to develop faculties of a nature or a 
degree different from those whicfi ever appeared 
before. Such novelty is always suspicious: and, 
if it attracts for a little while, soon loses its charm. 



CHAPTER LXXIV. 

Froper requisites of Tales of Fiction. 

17 June 1823. 

All Tales should have a strong reference to 
unforced human sympathy: — They should relate 
to life : to what is possible , — and not impro^ 
hahle, in a state of exalted human virtue and re- 
finement. They should open to us examples of 
magnanimity, noble sentiment, sublime passion, 
and splendid wisdom. They should shew the 
spirit which pervades and elucidates all the com* 



GJfOMICA. CH. LXXIV. 169 

plicated machinery and conflicting operations of 
social ties. — Not violent unreflecting , brutal 
ferocious passion: — not the mere joy , whicli 
arises from the alternation of bodily activity and 
bodily rest: not the daring heroism of thouglit- 
less ferocity : not the love , which is a sensual 
impulse ; and the generosity which is an uiireflec- 
ting instinct ! — 

Tl]at , which is consistent with the general 
scheme of life; which forms a part of its diversi- 
fied plan ; which is , or at least is believed to be, 
a portion of our nature ; which in our sober mo- 
ments of philosophic reflection we can admit and 
approve; — ought to form tlie matter of tliat 
highest order of composition, to wliich human 
genius can aspire. — 

Why should we go to savage nations , and 
savage times , for those virtues , and that wisdom, 
which Providence has ordered sljould alone grow 
up under culture, mental labour, and refine- 
ment ? 

We are to look in the permanent poets of the 
first class for the highes.t lessons of human intel- 
ligence : — we are to learn from them tfje dic- 
tates of morality ; and the tones of true and vir- 
tuous emotion ; — we are to hear from tliem , 
in language strong, elevated ^ and harmonious, 
whence we may draw consolation ; and how we 

22 



170 GNOMICA. CH. LXXIV^ 

ought to comment on this mysterious state of 
Being ! 

But how is this effected by those , who repre- 
sent an order of things , and a conformation of 
characters , which no one beUeves ever to have 
existed ; and of which no one beheves the exis- 
tence even possible ? 

It is not our business to aggravate the evils of 
life ; but , if possible , to exact comfort from 
them : to follow out that inspired theory , which 
is laid down in Gray's Fragment on Vicissitude : 
and to shew how Virtue and Wisdom may 
triumph over Misfortune ! 

Rage at the destinies of Providence ; hatred 
and fierce revenge in return for neglect or injury; 
a defying glory in crime, because Virtue is not 
always rewarded ; — may susprise by their bold- 
ness; and overcome by the force of the lines, 
and the briUiance of the colours, in which they 
are painted. But it is not till the understanding 
approves, what the imagination admires, that 
■we are satisfied. — When the pause comes ; 
when the sober moment of consideration returns, 
the charm is dissipated ; and we no longer find 
pleasure in what we know is a delusive pic- 
ture. -— 



GWOMICA. CH. LXXIV. 171 

He , who has looked on human nature with a 
sorrowing, sympathising, and affectionate heart; 
appalled at its vices ; touched by its misfortunes, 
and glowing with affection and wonder at its 
virtues and beauties , is formed to give a very- 
different cast , and very different interest to his 
fictions, from him who is defiant, proud, sar- 
castic , and unsparing ; — who v/ould lash the 
world into the shape which suits the encourage- 
ment of his own propensities ; who forces his 
own views by the pow er of his eloquence upon 
the reluctant eyes of others ; who by the phan- 
tasms of his pencil terrifies the beholder into 
A^' or ship ! — 

All invention must be under the impulse and 
direction of the affections we have experienced , 
and the observations we have made : — unless 
indeed , the affections and observations be sup- 
plied by the memory of what we have learned 
from others; — in which case they v^ill want 
freshness , force , eloquence , and nature : — - 
they will probably be extravagant or trite : and 
will neither raise interest , nor give instruction. 

What we suppose ought to be; what we con- 
ceive of good , separated from the evil , which , in 
reality , too often counteracts it ,. a powerful ima- 
gination can embody ; animate with life ; and put 
into action. To do this , requires something more, 
it must be admitted, than a vivid fancy : it requires 



172 GNOMICA. CH. LXXIV. 

that fervor and skill of intellectual faculty, which 
can combine ; which can detach , and reunite 
into one whole ; which by presenting it in unity- 
can give to it passions sentiments and opinions 
appropriate to the new creation ! — Tiiis pregnant 
and plastic faculty is the gre^^t faculty of genius. 
It is rare, — especially when the materials in 
which it deals are, at the same time, of a prime 
quality ; and when the whole is under tlie direction 
of a cultivated , sound, and enlarged judgment. — - 
If half our existence were not intellectual ; if 
\^ e were mere creatures of matter , all care and 
toil expended in ideal fabrics would be idle , or at 
best useless. But the employment of our thoughts; 
— and the right employment of them, — is what 
our nature and our happiness require. We must 
think in some way : --- and therefore if we do not 
think right, Ave shall think wrong ! — All human 
beings think and feel; in the absence of realities^ 
some visionary representation of them , however 
imperfect , is present to the mind. 

The uncultured mind , therefore , requires to 
be instructed and led: — food must be found 
for it : if what is proper is not furnished, it will 
assuredly take what is improper : — at the best , 
what is proper can only have a chance against the 
improper : — but the chance is worth the 
trial ! — 

If change of scenery and air be often necessary 



GNOMICA.. CH. LXXV. 173 

to the body , change of thoughts and images is 
equally necessary to the mind. A.nd how can this 
be produced so probably and so effectively as by 
a rich and eloquent fiction ? Locomotion is often 
impossible: solitude is often unavoidable! 



CHAPTER LXXV. 

Duties of a Biographer, 

5 Aug. 1823. 

All exaggerated , and all injudicious, praise is 
an offence against the public understanding; and 
an injury to the individual on whom it is lavished. 
If credit is given to it, it misleads : if it is denied, 
the denial encourages a scepticism, which will 
not be confined within its proper limits. What is 
injudicious , may set up , as worthy of commen- 
dation , that which does not merit it : or, by 
applying to a person what did not belong to him, 
may raise in others the false expectation of being 
able to combine what is incompatible. 

The qualifications of a Biographer, though not 
commonly regarded , ought to be of no common 
class, either in kind , degree , or number. His spe- 
culative notions ought to be enlarged and just : 
his observation ought to be acute , vigilant , and 
accurate : his faculty of intellectual distinction, 
nice and sagacious: his sentiments, generous and 



174 GIfOMICA. CH. LXXVI. 

warm ; his fancy lively ; and his coinmand o 
language clear , and elegant. 

To weigh out praise precisely as it is deserved, 
is to raise edifying examples to those who suc- 
ceed ; and to teach men to rely solely on their 
proper merits for the rewards they desire. 



CHAPTER LXXVI. 

Distinction between genuine and fictitious enthusiasm. 

iG Maj- 1823. 

The exact degree of enthusiasm, which ought 
to prevail in poetry calculated to be permanent , 
may not be capable of being defined with entire 
precision. It ought however to be the enthusiasm 
of the heart; not of the animal spirits. It ought 
not to be in the smallest degree forced. It ought 
to be sober, inherent, regular, and constant. 
It ought to be such as others of sensibility can 
follow , without being themselves raised to a fac- 
titious temperament. It ought to be under the 
controul of reason , morality , observation , and 
experience. Its lively colours ought not to be the 
decoration of Falsehood ; but the illustration of 
Truth. Why should we delight in representing 
characters , whose whole joy is in doing evil for 
evil's sake ? There is grief and vice enough in the 
world : — but it is not all grief, nor a// vice! 



GifOMiCA. cn. LXXVI. 175 

But when the public taste has been accustomed 
to these pungent sauces . it feels what is chaste 
and sober to be insipid. In the end , all excess 
satiates and palls : but the delirium sometimes 
lasts a long while. — 

The amalgamation of reason and feeling 
which experience justifies, alone constitutes the 
beauty of composition. There are sentiments 
which are a balm in the evils of life ; which con- 
secrate woe , and turn it into an half-joy ! — 
These , if they are accordant to our general na- 
ture, if they are in unison with the tones of the 
human bosom , it is the business of the poet and 
the moralist to embody and enforce. — 

There is seldom any enthusiasm in the French- 
School of Poetry, on which the schools of Dryden 
and Pope were founded. The best poetry of Q* 
Anne's reign is flat, and wants vigour and elo- 
quence. Prior is never pathetic , though he is 
sensible and ingenious and witty. Parin^el is na- 
tural , easy , and elegant : but he is deficient in 
terseness and strength ; and perhaps in origina- 
lity. Addison , as a poet , is for the most part un- 
imaginative; inanimate, and common place. Gay 
is colloquial , feeble, and trivial. 

There is no doubt that Pope rises on particular 
occasions to high enthusiasm. 

There is a pathetic enthusiasm in Tickell's 
Elegy on Addison, 



176 GJNOMICA. CH. LXXVI. 

Thomson is full of enthusiasm as to the scenery 
of nature : and Young was an enthusiast. Savage 
had a tinge of enthusiasm upon particular topics. 
Hammond was an enthusiast in love ; but without 
imagination. Akenside was a philosophic enthu* 
siast ; — but without moral pathos. Shenstone 
and Lyttelton were too deficient in vigour to he 
enthusiasts. 

Collins , Gray , Burns ^ were all pure enthu- 
siasts. Beattie was an enthusiast, till metaphysics 
put out the hre. T. Warton had a kind of tech- 
nical enthusiasm. Cowper's enthusiasm was calm, 
practical , and domestic. — Neither Hayley , 
Jerningham , lior Jephson had any conception of 
enthusiasm. 

Enthusiasm is the test of genuine thought or 
sentiment ; — of sincerity , or conviction. He 
who thinks and feels faintly , dares not trust him- 
self; and alway seeks the disguise of some affected 
and fictitious thought or sentiment. What is 
strongly impressed upon us , has too much domi- 
nion over us to allow us to doubt. Variety and 
Affectation are commonly the result of want of 
self-confidence. A false colouring is attempted as 
a substitute for weakness and sterility. — 

All apparent technical labour and skill in com- 
position is inconsistent with that tone of enthu- 
siasm, which must seem sincere in the Author, 
before it can communicate real enthusiasm to the 
reader. 



GNOMICA. CH. LXXVII* 177 

Enthusiasm moves rapidly onward : it cannot 
stay to examine , and polish, and attend to minute 
accuracies. Mere propriety goes but a little way 
in reaching exciellence* 

But it is this , perhaps >, that so often disquali- 
fies enthusiasts for execution ; and causes them 
to leave the communication of public fruit to 
those who are their inferiors in the higher quali- 
ties ; but who are better artists. Hence the field 
of Glory is left open to mediocrity ; and a large 
part of the compositions circulated and handed 
down are better fitted to the approbation of 
mechanical critics , than of a genuine lover of the 
Muse. 

It is fear of ridicule which extinguishes erithii- 
siasm in a large portion of those in whom it is 
implanted : constant intercourse with the world , 
and the desire to appear like other people , 
polishes away all energies. The laugh, the sneer, 
the sarcasm , are the weapons of society : aiid 
the nil admirari is the prime rule of what is called 
good company^ 

They who behold men only in active life^ see 
nothing but a coarse selfishness : a cold disregard 
to all interests but their own ; a watchful calm- 
ness, never off its guard, and always ready to 
take advantage of others ; and a total scepticism 
as to any other motive of action than individual 
good* All ideal gratifications; all benefits , which 

9,3 



178 GNOMICA. CH. LXXVI. 

are not matter of substance, they deem empty 
and affected ; and they consider it a sort of visio- 
nary folly to place any sincere value in them. 

But all good poetry deals almost exclusively in 
these iV/ea/ pleasures : and deals in them as things 
in which it believes , and not as mere matter of 
ornament , and pretence. 

It is the beliefs which is the true ingredient 
that gives force to the charm. 

Reality is more rich and captivating than the 
most extravagant romance , if the associations 
which coexist with it in high minds are joined to 
it. It therefore can never want grandeur , or 
pathos , or beauty , or interest. But to survey it 
only by the tests of the dry philosophy of dull 
minds , is to strip it of all its prime attractions. 

There are certain principles infixed in the 
structure of the human intellect and human 
bosom , according to which the imagination and 
the feelings pursue their natural and almost in- 
voluntary course; — with more or less vigour 
and brightness according to the degree of native 
endowment of the individual. To rouse , kindle , 
and direct these , is the poet's business 1 

We ought to combine with the proper objects 
of fancy such intellectualities , as are not only 
ingenious and plausible , but virtuous and sound. 
— All trickery ; all desire to raise wonder , and 
gratify by a momentary novelty , ought to be 



GNOMICA. CH. LXXVII. 179 

avoided. There is enough Grandeur and Beauty 
in Nature, without resorting to extravagant in- 
vention. 



CHAPTER LXXVII. 

Traits and consequences of the enthusiasm of Genius. 

1 5 July 1823. 

Enthusiasm always accompanies high Genius ; 
which seems destined to the nice and difficult 
perception and development of the ties and links 
between the material and visionary world. 

But it is this enthusiasm which so often, in prac- 
tical life, leads wrong him who is under its in- 
fluence. When he applies it to realities , when he 
believes it will be found in action , he will be a 
victim to his faith. 

In some men Genius expands, as if by bursts 
of inspiration , in early youth , many years before 
it diffuses itself over the whole character and ac- 
tions ; so that the gifted person appears to all 
common observation , deficient and foolish. IN'o- 
thing but his own self confidence , and knowlege 
of his own internal resources , preserves in such 
cases the respect of others towards him. 

But Genius is never ignorant of its own powers, 
even when they are totally hidden to others. 
Eagerness , vanity , shyness , tumultuous feelings. 



18Q GNOMICA. CH. LXXVII. 

often make it appear imbecile or absurd to 
others , when the possessor is sufficiently sensible 
of his own internal strength, 

But the majority of mankind, who are foolish 
in action , are still more foolish in the closet. 

Genius is known under all its disguises , awk^ 
wardnesses , and eccentricities , by a thousand 
traits; — by some burst of forcible sentiment- 
by some unexpected nicety and novelty of distincr 
tion ; by some image , or struggle at an image , 
romantic and grand ; by never dealing in com- 
pion-place, but giving constant signs of an un- 
borrowed course of thinking. 

Yet to vulgar apprehensions men of Genius 
often appear in their youtli very inferior to men 
of ordinary acquirements. 

What is Genius , can surely admit of no ratio- 
nal doubt, 

Strong, just, and noble Imagination, displaying 
itself in visionary invention , must be Genius ! — 

If we could suppose a man to exhibit this , who 
seemed dull in learning , barren in acquirement , 
?ind blundering in the common intercourse of 
life ; still from the proof of possessing this faculty 
we must admit his Genius. 

It is in the register and discussion of these par- 
ticularities and inconsistencies, that the great 
value of the biography of Genius lies. We want to 
have the picture drawn with truth and frankness. 



GNOMICA* CH. LXXVII. 181 

The mere relation of the events , which are com- 
mon to all men, unaccompanied by the notice of 
the peculiar manner in which they affect Genius , 
is as dry and uninstructive as it is unamusing. 

We know that all are born , and die , and eat , 
and drink , and sleep. We want to know , of 
Genius, the prevailing temper , and passions ; the 
voluntary occupations and amusements ; the pri- 
vate sentiments ; the sincere convictions ; the 
unaffected taste; the natural predilections; the 
judgment regarding its cotemporaries ; the opi- 
nion of its own faculties and deficiencies; — its 
hopes and fears; its ambitions; its comforts ; and 
its sorrows. 

The generality of mankind have no fixed and 
absolute predilections of sentiment and thought. 
They take what is taught them by others; and 
are therefore always liable to have it changed by 
the last master. It never sits upon them uneasily 
or inconveniently : and can always be thrown off 
whenever it is in the way. Men of talent , there- 
fore , without genius , can always accommodate 
themselves to the world : — because their feelings, 
and impressions , are not inherent, but borrow ed. 

There are invisible charms attached to the 
whole scenery of nature , which it is the business 
of tlie poet to decypher , like an unknown lan- 
guage ! It requires a rare native penetration and 
brightness of perception to effect this. The im- 



182 Gl^OMlCA. CH. LXXTII* 

pression on common minds is faint, confused, 
and too dim to be tracec" : — and that which is 
taken at second hand from other painters , is of 
no real value. 

In proportion as a mind is pleased with the 
Hvely description of a temporary state of artificial 
manners , it has no taste for the simplicity of 
nature. This is the characteristic of the French 
above other nations of modern Europe : they 
are more struck with art than nature ; and have 
more of *;he ingenuity of the understanding than 
of the heart. They are always great admirers of 
their own temporary manners : and assimilate 
the costume cf all ages and people to their own 
prevailing fashion. In the time of Louis XIV. 
therefore they made Romans speak like the petit 
maitres of their own existing Court. They are 
always justly called reasoners in poetry^ rather 
than dealers in the higher flights of Imagination. 
The understanding works more with them than 
the lofty enthusiasm of the fancy and the heart. 
They have a keen talent for observation ; and a 
lively sense of the ridiculous. They are therefore 
more shrewd than sublime ; and more lively than 
pathetic. 

Thej^ whose main talent is fitted for , and exer- 
cised in, quick and nice observation of what is 
daily passing in society , accustom their minds to 
what is mean and little , rather than what is great^ 



GTfOMICA. CE. LXXVII. 183 

and suit their conceptions to what is familiar, 
selfish , and coarse. 

Tiiis minor sort of Genius is more the result 
of study and art, than the Visionary and Sublime. 

But how many more readers does it please ! — 
Nothing delights them like pictures , which they 
call drawn to the life. — But surely , the pictures 
ought in themselves to be beautiful , or grand : — 
we ought not only to have the truth; — but 
sublime or affecting truth. 

It may be said that the exhibition of those comic 
scenes , those little drolleries and railleries , 
which enliven society, cheers the heart, and nou- 
rishes charity and benevolence towards mankind: 
that portraits of severer virtue , and nobler im- 
pulses of intellect , are such as the mass of the 
people have little sympathy with; and can derive 
no practical lessons from : that what is matter of 
lively and accurate observation is more rational 
and solid than what is matter of ideal and baseless 
invention ; and that a sagacious understanding is 
much more worthy of admiration and praise, than 
a wild and speculative imagination. 

Thus the admirers of Fielding, in preference to 
Richardson and Rousseau , were always found 
among the sober and busy part of mankind. 

But it may be observed that this alledged truth 
of portrait is very commonly a mere assumption. 
Pictures are not necessarily true, because they 



184 GNOMICA. CHi tXXVIII. 

are familiar and coarse. I doubt if any of the 
characters in l^om Jones are particularly true to 
nature : the prevalent introduction of the fami- 
Har manners and habits of the day deceived 
readers ; and made them mistake costume and 
accidental habit for universal features of society. 
Are books not to be written but for the com- 
mon reader? Is the judgment of a common under- 
standing to be the test of excellence? •=— 



CHAPTER LXXIII. 

Different sources of the different characters in poetry 
tracedi 

t4 July 1^23. 

As to what belongs to a Poet to do: — he may 
delineate his own feelings , if they are peculiar ^ 
forcible, striking, and just; — or those of an 
invented character* 

The former will have the best chance of being 
accurate and profound. 

Some have a lively invention: — ' but more in- 
genious than just ; which enters not into the 
depths of the human heart; but only takes things 
as they appear upon the surface. Some are under 
the constant dominion of high passion, which 
deepens imagination in proportion as it is streng- 
thened by it. 



GiVOMICA. CH. LXXVIII. 185 

Some are poets in their own lives and feelings: 
others , only in their ideal creations. 

It follows from hence that the memoirs and 
characters of those poets are most interesting , 
whose Oivn personal experience furnishes them 
with the subjects of their poetry. All else sits 
light upon them ; and is often wanton, capricious, 
and extravagant. 

A great poet's mind and heart are the mirrors , 
whereby the noble dreams and visions of the 
Intellect are to be reflected back upon the world. 

All voluntary movements of the imagination 
find a ready sympathy in other minds: those 
which are the result of effort and toil , have a 
peculiarity in them , or take an accidental course, 
for which other minds are not prepared. 

Why is it expected , that Genius , from whose 
higher sensibility all its powers of delight are to 
arise , should yet possess all the common-place 
coldness and complacence of those , who on tliis 
very account resort to borrow w^armtb from their 
fire ? 

It is the disquiet at ordinary tliings , and the 
agitation at the sorrows and difficulties of huma- 
nity , which swells the heart of genius till it vents 
itself in poetical effusion. 

One hates the unnatural and stupid boasts of 
that cold heart , which only feels or pretends to 

24 



186 GIVOMIGA.. CH. LXXVIIl. 

feel according to the dictates of duty or chill 
reason. 

What men are by art , can never excite much 
interest , or afford much instruction. What is 
done by toil the next man's toil will supersede: 
the strokes of nature have a positive and unal- 
terable value. 

There is a dim idea of beauty and excellence 
beyond reality , which lies at the bottom of our 
hearts. The magical powers of the poet make it 
burst its searments, and blaze into light. The out- 
line of similar forms seems impressed upon all : or 
at least the poet's power turns them into simi- 
larity. 

To represent what is common can surely afford 
but a very vulgar pleasure. What we see every 
day in life, we do not want to be taught. But what 
is worse, these representations are very generally 
vulgar , yet not correct. They paint things accor- 
ding to the blundering perceptions of dull and 
uninformed minds. And yet even these coarse , 
shapeless , unintelligent, pictures give pleasure to 
the multitude of uncultivated readers; because 
they bear sonie similitude to what themselves are 
accustomed to conceive of the same subjects. 

When a young Jady of more memory than 
genius , more liveliness than depth , more quick- 
ness than examination , writes a IS^ovel , she be- 
trays in every page the trifles with which her 



GIVOMICA. CH. LXXIX. 187 

mind is full ; and the tests of value , which she 
applies to the events of life. 



CHAPTER LXXIX. 

IFhat are just claims to public notice. 

lo May 1823. 

It is quite impossible that any one can have a 
just claim on the public notice, except in right 
of qualities and exertions which are of a public 
nature. Birth, rank, riches, are mainly personal 
and private. Propriety in moral conduct does not 
extend its effects beyond the circle of individual 
intercourse. 

Any extraordinary effort of mind communicable 
to all the world, excites an interest in all the world 
towards him from whom it proceeds. But still 
nothing is worth telling which is not applicable 
to others , either as instruction or amusement. 

A life of study is not always an happy life ; it 
often destroys health, and depresses the spirits. 
But yet the mind , that has vigour , requires exer- 
cise , as well as the strong body: and the faculties^ 
which lie useless , stagnate and breed diseases.^ 

There are times when we desire to know the 
thoughts of others ; and other times , when we 
are anxious to digest and perfect our own thoughts. 
As we grow older, we read less , and think more. 



iSS GlYOMICA. CH. LXXIX. 

It then becomes necessary to recur to the thoughts 
of others ; — not to give foundation to our own ; 
but only as elucidatory or confirmatory of them. 

The external scenes of nature produce very 
different effects upon the senses of different 
people. With some , they form vivid impressions 
on the fancy, mixed up with the rich stores of 
intellect and sentiment. To reflect back these by 
the means of adequate language, is to afford aid 
and illumination to feebler minds. 

It has always been my desire to prove that , of 
which I have always felt a perfect conviction ; — 
that poetical feeling is not SLpr^etence , but a rea- 
lity. — Most men feel too little ; and a few , too 
much! 

All seek their pleasures: but some seek vir- 
tuous , or innocent pleasures ; others , selfish and 
corrupt ones. The pleasure derivable from in» 
structing or amusing others , is a virtue. — We 
cannot love virtue without being in some degree 
virtuous. 

A genius does not in early life accommodate 
himself to the world, like one of less predominant 
and fixed propensities. — As experience and 
necessity gradually bring him into closer con- 
tact with society , he approaches at last nearer to 
this ease and pliancy : — but it is then too late 
to serve him with the world : and he cannot in 
3uch advanced days begin a course of ambition 



GNOMICA. CH. LXXX. 189 

which his superior abihties might, if commenced 
earher , have rendered easy to him. — 



CHAPTER LXXX. 

Dangers of Imagination, 

I 6 June 1828. 

Imagination, though the most brilhant, is the 
most dangerous of all the mental faculties. It 
often leads as to pursue TFill-d-TVisps , — ignes 
fatui, — till we fall into quagmires and pits. It 
makes us reckless for ourselves to the darkness 
and tempests around us : — and reckless also for 
those dependent on us , who possess not our 
charm to keep off the pain of the actual evils 
which are present to us. 

It is often urged, that if we did not rely on this 
cup of delirious comfort , we should make more 
struggles to avoid misfortunes , which might be 
kept off by caution and prudence. 

Men of imagination live upon circumstances as 
they appear to themselves ; — not as they appear 
to others. They who live by bare dry facts , live 
by one common standard : they do not substitute 
w^hat is ideal for what is actual: and when evil 
comes , they see it only as evil. Fame , the most 
airy and unsubstantial of all the objects to which 
Imagination gives colours, yet is an object for 



190 G]NOMJCA. CH. LXXXI. 

which nature seems to have implanted in us a 
strong passion. The history of mankind provesi 
how many soHd advantages have at all times been 
sacrificed for the attainment of it. If it exists even 
in those , who have little imagination , is it extra- 
ordinary that it should flame brightly in those 
who have a strong imagination ? — 

To love glory before profit , is to make the 
intellectual part of our nature predominate. — 
It is the source of all that is unselfish and gene- 
rous. We can have little other reward than fame 
and self-satisfaction for our noblest actions. Money 
does not pay us for facing death in the fields of 
battle. The work , the toil of half a life , which 
secures us immortality , does not pay us in 
money ! — 



CHAPTER LXXXT. 

The Vision of Poetry. . 

Having entered into numerous discussions re- 
garding poetry in my former Chapters , I may be 
allowed here to borrow some description of it 
from my numerous loose poetical fragments. It 
is part of an Ode , written at Naples , 20 June , 
1820 , entitled 



GNOMIC A. CH. LXXXl. IQI 

THE VISION OF POETRY. 
I. 
A slumber siezed my frame ; 
And as in deep repose 
My limbs beneath a spreading oak were laid , 
A Vision came; 
And Forms of heavenly beauty rose; 
And one above the rest in splendor was array'd ! 
Her eyes were bright 
Almost with an excess of light; 
And glory round her shone, 
Like Angels on their throne! 
I gazed; and trembled while I gazed; 
Then all around me songs of heavenly voice were 

raised ! 

2. 

A harp was in her hand ; 
And at each pause of sound 
With wave of winged arm she struck the strings: 
A chosen band 
An imitative note rebound ; 
And thro' the circling space the swelling chorus 

rings. 
With eyes intent 
Upon th' Angelic Spirit bent , 
A tone more aweful still 
Begins mine ears to fill : 
« Hear, favour'd Subjects , hear! » she cries : 
<:(. Strike bold , while at my nod new mimic worlds 

arise. » 



192 GiyOMICA. CH. LXXXll. 

3. 

Then spread before my sight 
Elysian realms as fair, 
As Paradise to Adam first appear'd : 
A golden light 
Invested all th' ambrosial air; 
And trees and shrubs and flowers thro' all the 

scene were rear'd. 
In every bough 
Music breathed out the grateful vow; 
And Shapes of Grace and Love 
Sported in every grove : 
Ear , Eye , and Heart were full of joy ; 
And all that breathed with life, felt bliss without 

alloy. 
etc, etc, etc. 



CHAPTER LXXXIL 

Fixed principles of Poetical Taste in the Soul, 

4 j4pril 1823. 

If there be (according to Descartes) fixed prin- 
ciples of truth in the Soul : — moral standards , 
by which the impressions of the senses must be 
judged and rectified , a Poet's images and repre- 
sentations must be tried by those tests , before 
they ought to be pronounced just and beautiful. 



GNOMICA. CH. LXXXII. 193 

To do otherwise, is to make Poetry the mistress 
or hand maid of Error! 

All which raises Pity in false places ; all Avhich 
makes Vice appear beautiful ; all which encou- 
rages those delusive appearances of pleasure , 
which the first appearances of the fancy are apt 
to derive from a thousand objects of life, cannot 
be admitted among excellent poetry ; — because 
it wants a primary ingredient of excellent poetry : 
' — truth, and wisdom. 



IN'ature , lovely Nature! but to thee, 

1 lift th' adoring eye , and bow the knee ! 
I scorn th' unholy, coarse, factitious fire, 
Which w^akes with clamourous notes th' unwilling 

lyre ! 
Only where thou with voluntary glow 
Bidst the heart's melted current freely flow, 
I wait to catch thy wafted music's voice , 
And in the truths it tells , alone rejoice ! 
Exhausting raptures , charms of dazzling glare , 
Which shine to draw astray , then melt in air, 
Ne'er , sung by thee , delirious pleasure breathe ; 
Nor tempt the Poet with a d) ing wreath ! 
Fresh as the waters of perennial life. 
Flow thy clear streams of song mid human strife! 
Untouch'd by time , unclouded hy the change 

25 



194 GNOMICA. CH. LXXXIII. 

Of transient taste, thy strains of music range 

Upon the wings of the eternal Year; 

And fresh , as when the world began , appear ! 



CHAPTER LXXXIII. 

JVhat are called the prejudices of a native 
generally verified hy time. 

17 July )823. 

I am one of those who feel no particle of 
doubt in the conviction , that whenever we give 
up what natural sagacity and plain reason sug- 
gest to us , we are sure to go wrong , and repent 
of it : that is , we may reason a priori with a cor- 
rectness approaching as near as jDossible to cer- 
tainty ! But, unquestionably, it is still more satis- 
factory to have the test oi facts , to resort to , as 
a guidance. 



CHAPTER LXXXIV. 

Successive ductility and firmness of highly-gifted minds. 

All sensitive minds have a tendency to suspect 
themselves. They are at first alarmed by objec- 
tions ; and examine with some anxiety whether 
the charges against them may not be true ! That 



GIS^OMICA. CH. LXXXV. 195 

ductility , which yields to be led by inferior 
minds, is not uncommon even among the highly- 
talented ! But if once talent is roused , and pro- 
voked to investioate its own o-oinions , this tem- 
porary weakness is put aside ; and the more it is 
pressed , the hrmer it becomes ! 



CHAPTER LXXXY. 

Opinions of unprincipled worldlings . 

ici July 1823. 

There are a numerous class of mankind , who 
entertain the belief, tiiat there is so much un- 
certainty in the conclusions to be come to , and 
the judgments to be pronounced in human 
affairs , that a superior degree of ingenuity and 
management , with the mixture of a little so- 
phistry , may turn the balance either way , as 
desires or interests may prompt. 

But they who think so , entertain a false con- 
fidence , and a false belief! Tlie} may succeed , 
and do succeed , too often , when they have 
weak people to deal with I But Avlien once the 
question is fairly raised , they will have an 
hopeless and hazardous contest ! 

There are others ;, who will enter into no 
argument : but rely entirely on bodily strength, 
and animal courage: on the maneuvres of per- 



196 GNOMICA. CH. LXXXV. 

sonal solicitation and secret misrepresentation; 
on private assertion , Avhere there are none to 
controvert ; and private insinuation where there 
are none to contradict! 

I make due allowances for the natural tendency 
of the human mind to delude itself into opinions 
accordant with its wishes or interests! Certain 
colourings and exaggerations may be expected 
and forgiven ! But the outlines and main colours 
of the things themselves cannot be reversed , or 
changed ! Black cannot be made white ; and 
what is crooked ^ cannot be made strait! 

When such attempts are successful in defiance 
of the conviction of him on whom they are suc- 
cessful, because the conceder is desirous to gain 
the good will or good word of him to whom he 
makes the concession , the conceder falls into a 
most grievous delusion. Such a recompence , 
( were it worth having , ) was never yet gained in 
this way ! No man feels kindness , or gives praise, 
to him whom he has deluded ! 

It is admitted that it is very long, before a 
generous mind can be fully impressed with these 
severe truths ! 



There are many principles , rules , and doc- 
trines, which ought not to be admitted to be 
brought into debate. To suffer the question to be 



GNOMICA. CH. LXXXVI. IQ? 

entertained, is to encourage those, who are ad- 
ventroiis enough to try any thing which their 
interest prompts , to persevere in those efforts 
which ought to be crushed in the bud. 

There is no glaring fact , ( as indisputable as 
that t vo and two make four , ) which will not be 
disputed , if it be left to a man's conscience , and 
sense of shame , whether he will dispute it , 
or not ! 



CHAPTER LXXXVI. 

Akenside, and didactic Poetry. 

6 jiyril iSiS. 

Akenside , with a mind more rhetorical than 
close, sought out a metaphysical subject, on 
which he might hang all his profusion of orna- 
ment , and endless amplitude of illustration. He 
seems to have delighted more in the splendor of 
the dress , than in the merits of the matter 
which it covered. He never deals in those vigo- 
rous or nice touches , which move by their 
force , or enchant by their just and happy pre- 
cision. He has no concentrated strength : he 
exhausts by expansion. 

To a genuine lover of the Pvluse it is difficult to 
give much interest to Didactic poetry. That, of 
which the primary object \^ preceptive ^ has in it 



198 GNOMIC A. CH, LXXXVI. 

something almost incompatible with the first 
principles of poetry. Among the Ancients indeed 
Lucretius has set an example of this sort of com- 
position. Akenside had only to throw into a poe- 
tical form the prose essays of Addison on this 
subject. I think that his ideas seem to have 
been almost all d€rivati{>e ; and to have been 
more upon his memory, than upon his heart. 

His poem exercises the mind with variety : 
but he never rouses the intellect , or moves 
the feeUngs. It is the enthusiasm of a mind 
heated with study , and fermenting with the 
richness of the fruits it has gathered. It par- 
takes too much of the air of philosophic disci- 
pline for the erratic visions of a poet's taste. 

Akenside , however , striking out a compo- 
sition, which was considered to have had , (per- 
haps justly , ) a new character , gained by it 
immediate and extensive celebrity. 

Without novelty , there are scarcely any in- 
stances of the acquisition of popular fame. 



CHAPTER LXXXYII. 

The proper crilerions of original thinking. 

9 April 1S23. 

I call ORIGINAL those opinions , which result 
from the operations of an Author's mind upon 



GNOMICA. CH. LXXXVII. 199 

his own experience. That which he draws from 
his memory of what others have said , and which 
he repeats because he supposes it will raise the 
reader's estimation of his talents , or his morals , 
is worth nothing. It is a false coin , which is 
mischievous , and ought to disgrace the utterer. 

But original , as well as borro\'v ed , opinions 
are worthless unless they are just. And how shall 
we determine their justice ? Time and the con- 
currence of other good judgments must deter- 
mine it. If a man frankly utters , w hat he sin- 
cerely thinks , he will be generally right j or he is 
not fit to be an author : for it is no qualification, 
to be able to avoid error , so long as a guide is 
followed. 

But then it may be said , that though he ought 
to w rite only what he thinks , he should not 
write all he thinks : that he should only shew 
his best face ; and not be seen in dishabille ! — 
But are we to judge of any one by such partial 
appearances ? It is from the knowlege of a man's 
character , as a ivhole , that we receive instruc- 
tion ! 

A man gains nothing by impressing a falsely- 
favourable character of himself : it cannot last : 
and if it could , it would be of no benefit to him. 
«It is not my own portrait)) says Montaigne, 
(c that thus gets favour : it is the portrait of 
another. » 



200 GNOMICA. CH. LXXXVII. 

Absolute freedom from affectation is a primary 
ingredient of genius. The effects of art , manage- 
ment, and reserve, are cold and lifeless. They are 
like the chill light of the Moon; that shines, but 
does not fructify. 

We talk of caprice of opinion. There is no 
caprice of opinion among the highly -endowed, 
and highly cultivated. It is with the multitude , 
that opinion is capricious. Look through the great 
writers of all ages and nations ; and the confor- 
mity of moral conclusions, and of the sentiments 
of the heart , is miraculous. 

If there be novelty in moral or sentimental 
thinking, we may be sure that it is wrong : Pro- 
vidence has not ordained that truth in morals, 
or in the movements of the heart, should first 
be discovered at the end of thousands of years. 

There is in the human bosom the same perpe- 
tual principle of moral truth; and the percep- 
tions of the senses , and the processes of the 
understanding, make their way to it in the same 
manner. 

The fashionable principles of poetry therefore 
in England , which have for the first time been 
set up in the present Century, may be concluded 
to be utterly wrong , for that reason alone , 
were there no others. There are however others , 
sufficiently numerous and incontrovertible. It is 
a miserable perversion of mind, which renders 



GNOMICA. CH. LXXXVII. 201 

all the accumulated instruction and deliglit of 
multiplied ages distasteful and insipid. 

It is the certainty of knowlege derived from 
the arguments of illustrious men at different aeras 
and under different circumstances, wiiich gives 
to it its greatest satisfaction. The moral , biogra- 
phical , and historical literature of England alone 
is some^yhat dry, and barren : it is by combining 
with it those of Italy and France that its inex- 
haustible attraction continues to augment upon 
us. Why should England suppose that it engrosses 
all genius, all wisdom, and all virtue ? It partakes 
them but in common with other countries. 

Authors must be tried by the fertility , tlie 
force, the sagacity , the accuracy, the brilliance, 
the eloquence, the moral feeling of t'leir minds : 
— not by a little technical skill; by laborious 
correctness, and mechanical method. 

It is by degrees th.at t\i^ mind arrives at that 
self-confidence , whtch enables it to rely on its 
own impressions; and to draw from these only 
sources of true intelligence ; rather than to found 
theories on imperfect observations of hidden 
movements ; which exhibit false lights , only to 
mislead. 

What is written in youth , is generally ambi- 
tious : what is written in age , is the mere vent 
of fullness of die mind. The first is more bloom- 
ing , and shewy : the second , riper and mellower, 

a6 



202 GNOMICA. CH. LXXXVII. 

We do not continue for any length of years to 
load our memories , without bringing what we 
collect to the test of the judgment. We separate 
what our experience confirms from that, to which 
our anticipating fancy alone had given weight. — 
The works of young authors therefore are hut 
rarely of substantial texture : the ingredients are 
commonly light ; and the combination wants 
flavour. Even the imagination , which is supposed 
to be more restless and glittering, is not so deep 
and strong. The judgment , as it grows more 
paramount , prunes it of a good deal of foliage 
and blossom ; but it thus shews the real fruit to 
more advantage. 

He who can pass through the vicissitudes of a 
life prolonged to middle age , unimproved by 
practical testimony, must be deficient in common 
perception and the most common understanding. 
How much more strongly must this apply to those 
of great mental gifts ! The difficulty is to find 
proper channels of communication; to find oc- 
casions for pouring out this knowlege. 

What is nea^ will probably be lost , if it waits 
till entire dissertations proper to each subject , 
in which it may find its regular place, can be 
executed. 

There are , however , men who have given over 
literature before their middle age : but I doubt , 
if they could be men of native genius , or native 



GNOMICA. CH. LXXXVIir. 203 

talents. What a man thinks strongly , he will not 
be content till he speaks , or writes. 

I am not sure that the life of an author is an 
happy life : but yet if the seeds of authorship be 
in him , he will not be happy except in the in- 
dulgence of this occupation. Without the culture 
and free air which these seeds require , they will 
wither and turn to poison. 



CHAPTER LXXXVIII. 

The voice of the multitude not the test of merit. 

9 April 1823. 

It is quite impossible to secure Fame by legi- 
timate means , though it often comes by those 
which are illegitimate. — It is therefore a duty 
to repress any anxious desire for it. If it comes 
— well : — but if it keeps aloof, let it go ! — It 
is sufficient to have deserved it. Horace therefore 
says strangely, 

Paulwn sepultce clistat inertice 

Celata Virtus, — 
Of all the absurd positions that can be laid down, 
there is none more absurd than that the voice of 
the multitude is the test of merit. An quicquid 
stultius quam quos singulos contemnas, eos aliquid 
putare esse unwersos? (^^) 

(l) Ckero 5 Tiisc. Quests I. 5. c. 36. 



204 GNOMIC A. CH. LXXXIX. 

If the multitude are guided by their own indi- 
vidual judgments, which is the privilege now 
claimed and exercised, we may guess what those 
judgments will be ! — He who levels himself to 
vulgar apprehensions, vulgar feelings, and vulgar 
language, must be necessarily more popular, 
than he who is above them. 

As to prejudice, — that is certainly prejudice, 
which merely rests upon authority ; and for 
which there is no apparent reason. But a large 
portion of the opinions received and handed 
down to us by men of eminent genius or talents, 
have a foundation as rational as it is ancient. 

Mankind were much happier when they thus 
had resting places for their thoughts , instead of 
throwing every thing into doubt and disorder. 

Yet Truth need not vex herself ; she will have 
her day again and again ; while Folly once rejec- 
ted never revives ; — but becomes rotten and 
odious : some contemptible progeny may spring 
from her ashes ; to flourish for a moment ; then 
to be treated as they deserve. 



CHAPTER LXXXIX. 

What constitutes the value of Fancy. 

lo j4pril 1823. 

The value of a fancy is little ;, till it becomes 
aggregated with the operations of the mind. 



h-^ 



GNOMICA. CH. LXXXIX, 205 

Therefore he , who passes through a succession 
of beautiful scenes, does not arrive at their value 
and use , till time and leisure give him an oppor- 
tunity to contemplate upon them. 

He whose opinions merely ai-ise out of the 
occasion , and are only applicable to it, cannot 
transfer the results of his mind to another, because 
he cannot be able to relate precisely all the facts 
and circumstances attending it. 

He , whose mind is pure , does not fear to put 
it upon paper , where he will find a permanent 
monitor of what is wrong. But the imaginations 
and thoughts of many are cloudy and dark ; — 
arising not merely from faint perception, but from 
evil passions. 

We must not force our thoughts into perverse 
and unsocial routes ; but rather watch and follow 
their native excursions. That which is common 
to our nature , and at the same time virtuous , 
can alone interest and instruct us. We quit these 
perverse paths , as soon as they have lost their 
novelty. We take up things as passing visions , 
to be contrasted to the similitudes of real life ; 
but which we cannot endure as systems. 

It is difficult to guess , why , while the paths 
of beauty and grandeur and health and instruc- 
tion are unexhausted, and some of them' untra- 
versed , human faculties should waste themselves 
in seeking error thro' roads crooked and mon- 
strous , and difficult and wearisome ! -— 



206 GNOMIC A. CH. LXXXIX. 

Habit may reconcile an individual to any pecu- 
liarities of mental combination. How can the 
picture of such peculiarities interest those who 
have not contracted the same habits ? Or can 
he justify the attempt to encourage these habits? 
Yet it will be said that the delineation of these 
peculiarities is often found \o please. — Why? — 
Merely because it is new : whereas it pleases the 
author ^ because it is habitual] 

Tiiere are two degrees of Invention : one is 
discovery only; — the other creation. We may 
discover what exists ; but which has hitherto 
lain hidden. We may create : but we are bound 
to create with a regard to probability. — 

In the first class we may associate sentiments , 
moral principles , and reflections , to a simple 
fancy : in the last class , there is tiie complex 
operation of tfie imaginative combination, and 
of the creation of the intellectualities appropriate 
to such new existences. Tijis is not a mere dis^ 
covery ; nor even a simple creation ; but a double 
creation ! — 

There are among human Beings , those who are 
born with noble capacities , and generous hearts i 
but there are too many, who are deficient in 
both these qualities. — 



GNOMICA. CH. ex. 207 

CHAPTER XC. 

The purity of the mind , and the rectitude of the motive 
determine the merit of the action. 

II ^pvil i8:i3. 

Without purity and elevation oimind, no man 
can be good or great. Useful things effected 
through bad motives, (if they can be so effected,) 
confer no just honour upon him. It may be said , 
that a man's mijid is only to himself; and that 
the world can judge by actions alone. But the 
mind is an index to the real character of the 
actions: and to know the mind, therefore, is to 
have the best clue to the proper judgment of the 
actions. 

We are not sent into the world to pass through 
life with the misty and incurious apprehension 
of brutes. K thousand invisible as well as visible 
objects are about us and around us , and solicit 
our internal meditations , as Avell as visit our 
senses. Mere material action is but a small part 
of the duty involved in that which it is the task 
of our Being to perform. 

But common capacities want every light and 
guide to assist them in this more shadowy and 
mysterious part of our nature. Nay, the finest 
minds cannot always follow and render perma- 
nent the effects of these passing gleams , without 
the exertion of long skill and practice. 



208 GNOMICA. CH. XC. 

It is a perpetual watchfulness of one's own 
internal movements, a study of Self, (i) that 
can alone give this skill. This is the only source , 
that is open to him : all else is veiled or disguised. 

If this be true , there is no subject on which 
an author can produce information so important 
and so profound as on Self , if he treats it with 
ability and candour. But he must take care to 
dwell on what is applicable to others , as well as 
to Self : he must mix up little of what is adven- 
titious , and which does not spring from our 
general nature. 

Every man derives a satisfaction from knowing 
the ground on which he stands ; what are his 
pretensions ; and on what he can rely. Whatever 
we can rescue from the caprice of incapable, 
imperfect , or inconsiderate opinion , is a valuable 
step in our progress towards complacence. The 
conflict of light or prejudiced opinions ; the 
uncertainty into which the multitude , some- 
times from ignorance , and sometimes from de- 
sign , attempt to throw every thing , checks 
energy , and creates disgust and despondence. 

If from strict and repeated self-examination 
we can assist in attaining this desirable result , 
our labour will not be useless. What is ill- 



(^) See from Montaigne and Descartes all the Meta- 
physical writers down to Dugald Stewart. 



GNOMIC A. CH. XCI. 209 

received or neglected at first , will , if it be true , 
gradually and imperceptibly work its way , and 
produce its fruit. 



CHAPTER XCI. 

Belief in the general selfishness of yncuiJdnd destroys peace ^ 
and brings despondence. 

16 Jug. 1823. 

If experience should once force upon us the 
conviction that every human Being seeks only 
his own selfish interest, our vigilance and anxiety 
could never have a moment's rest. 

But this is surely not the case. It is only 
general with certain classes of society, whom their 
necessities , their want of independence , and 
their constant and familiar intercourse with the 
demoralized and fraudulent part of mankind, 
harden and embrute. 

What would become of public virtue , of tliC 
spur to undergo bodily labour , and the waste 
of mental spirits, and perils, and even deatfj, — 
if it were so? — Where would be the stimulus to 
fame , or to any unmercenary pursuit ? — 

There must be such an active principle as that 
of benevolence in the world ! Men ivill do good 
for the sake of good! for the internal satisfaction, 
which it gives to the conscience , and tiie heart ! 

27 



210 GNOMICA. CH. XCI. 

Is it possible, tliat all fair words can be intended 
merely to draw Lim, to whom they are addressed, 
into a snare or a pit ? 

He, who lives upon the vitals of tlie necessi- 
tous , who « laps the blood of sorrow » ; — 

cc Extortion mounted on the pamper'd steed, 
Which the last tears of starved Misfortune 

feed)) (1) 

may do so ! — ^ But all the world are not tygers , 
vultures , hyaenas , leopards , or crocodiles , gam- 
boling or moaning , tiiat they may dart on their 
prey unawares ! 

Yet it is not by public services , and benefit to 
others, that men become rich, and advance them- 
selves in the world : nor is it generally by genius 
or talents that they arrive at greatness! Tue mean- 
est faculties , always watchful to promote their 
own individual interests , are mucii more calcu- 
lated to effect tiiese ends ; and much more gene- 
rally succeed. It is strange, but it is true, tiiat 
Providence permits duplicity and hypocrisy , and 
false faitii and cunning, to carry away the spoils 
and the laurels in this life ! 

(') Fitzalblni. 



G^-03IICA. CH. XCII. 211 

CHAPTER XCII. 

Familiarity lessens the ugliness of evil : of tv hick still the 
traits are certain ; and cannot he rnistahen. 

21 July 1S23. 

WliCn we cl\« ell a long Ns^-Lile on an evil subject, 
we lose sometliing of the force of the revolting 
and glaring hnpressions, which strike us whenever 
^ve return fresh to it. Men may by degrees habi- 
tuate themselves to hear the most palpable and 
self-evident truths disputed! 

There is a certain point, up to Avhich Candor 
may be asked and permitted to go, in judging 
of other men's actions intentions and declarations. 
But to go beyond that point , is to allow the 
nature of things to be reversed ; to admit that 
there is no real difference between crime and 
innocence ; justice and injustice ; right and 
wrong : that meum and tiium may be absolutely 
confounded ; and that the boldest and subtlest 
man may always be made to appear in the right! 

We judge of crimes in Courts by rules, which 
leave no x)artic[e of doubt in the mind of an in- 
telligent and wise man. (^) ]^o man feels a diffi- 

(-) It is not of these strong lines cf separation that the 
Quarterly Review^ (IS^J^ lvi. vol. xxviii. i823 ^ p. 536 J 
spealis , when it says , in reference to me Opposition in 
Parliament 071 the Affairs of Spain ; «.the evidence of what 



212 GNOMIC A. CH. XCII. 

ciilty in distinguishing between murder and man- 
slaughter: — between the premeditated scheme 
and the accidental ebulhtion of momentary pas- 
sion : between the system prepense of unlawful 
gain ; and the irregularity of means by which the 
want of fortitude to endure gets out of a dange- 
rous and unforeseen scrape 1 

I say , that there are marks of distinction , 
which , wherever they occur , can admit of no 
doubt ! and which no man in his senses would 
allow to be argued away ; or would ever hear 
any argument about ! 

If there be no distinction between right and 
wrong ; — if a bold man can do what he will 
with impunity, and without loss of reputation, by 

is right and what is wrong , is not always striking and 
conclusive ; there is often room for debate; and it is one of 
the most antient and usual employments of oratory y 

to make the worse appear 

The better reason , to perplex and dash 

Maturest counsels. 
« The people have in all ages and nations , been sus- 
pected of a tendency to take the wrong side of a quesdon^ 
-■ — of being 

averse 

From all the truth it sees or hears ; 

But swallows nonsense and a lie 

With greediness and gluttony. 

And , though it have the pique and long , 

Is still for something in the wrong. » 



GivoMiCA. CH. xcn. 213 

having the courage and dexterity to support an 
argument that black is white ; then, in the society 
where such things prevail , everv thing is at the 
mercy of the most daring and the most uncon- 
scientious! — Property, fame, every thing which 
constitutes the happiness and supplies the wants 
of Man , — even bread , — is thrown off its 
base; and tossed into the air, to be scrampled 
for, and grasped by the strongest and most 
dextrous hand ! 



CHAPTER XCIII. 

Anxiety for the future. 

1 8 Alio,. 1823. 

We have it on holy authority that , sufficient 
for the day is the evil thereof: yet this must not 
be understood , that a calm foresight and pre- 
caution are unnecessary. Even these , however , 
when only leading to the use of fair and virtuous 
means , are too commonly inadequate to ward off 
the misfortunes, — the complicated adversity, — 
which wicked men have the power to inflict on 
the sincere , frank , and upright. 

Ah\ why then should they know their fate ; 
Since Sorrow never comes too late ; 
And Happiness too swiftly flics ? 



214 GNOMIC A. CH. XCIII. 

Thought would destroy their Paradise, — 

No more : — where ignorance is bliss , 
Tis folly to be wise ! » 

There are , however , some evils which a 
prospective care may avert ; and some , which it 
may lessen. But the habit of anxiety grows by 
feeding : and the uncertainty of the future aggra- 
vates a disease which hves upon fear. 

Nothing then is so desirable , as the indepen- 
dence , Avhich can secure us from being exposed 
to this cancer-worm of the heart. Riches , rank , 
station , — nay fame , respect , esteem , love , — 
are all at the mercy of the interests or the caprices 
of mankind : — without the forethought , mana- 
gement, and solicitude , which outweigh their 
value , we must not even hope for them ! Better 
to let them come or go , as they will , than thus 
pay too highly for them ! But a competence , a 
competence not much below those common 
comforts and conveniencies which early habits 
have rendered necessities, cannot be dispensed 
with , unless at the cost of unqualified misery ! 

So far then foresight, and anxiety for the future, 
must not be cast aside. Thus it is , to be in a 
situation in which either alternative is uneasi- 
ness , torment , gloom , and despondence! 

To brood over our sorrows ; to anticipate ill ; 
and to contemplate what is before us till the 
morbid and terrified fancy sees nothing but 



GNOMICA. CH. XCIV. 215 

gathering clouds and bursting tempests , can 
protect us from no aflliction v, hich is in store 
for us; but only weakens the fortitude requisite 
for endurance ; and often adds ideal miseries 
to the real ones which are already insuppor- 
table! — 

On the other hand , an hollow safety , a delu- 
sive hope, a supine inattention to the Storm , 

(c That husJid in grim repose expects his evening 

prej , )) 

increases danger, and multiplies the chances of 
ruin by giving efficacy to many modes of destruc- 
tion which might otherwise be escaped. 

The future is for tiic most part hid from us by 
the wisdom and beneficence of a merciful Provi^ 
dence. If tfje sufferings which await us were 
unveiled to our eyes at the commencement of 
our career , would it be possible for human for- 
titude to meet and go through its destiny ? — 



CHAPTER XCIV. 

Love of Gain breaks all restraints but the iron bonds of 
Power. 

21 Jiilj- 1823. 

He who , being exposed to the temporary evils 
and injuries of a breach or defiance of law or 
conscience on the part of others, — has not the 



216 GT^OMICA. CH. LXXIX. 

moral courage to endure tbem in the interval 
till protection or retribution can come, is at the 
mercy of whatever the cupidity or malice of 
scoundrels may choose to inflict ! 

The alternative may be grievous ; but the lesser 
evil MUST be boldly incurred ! 

We may be incUned, a priori, to believe that 
men who have supported a decent character in 
the world , will , if not from conscience , yet from 
fear of the world's censure , be under certain 
restraints as to their actions ; and not break 
those limits, within which the appearance of some 
degree of coarse and homely honesty is included. 
— - But experience proves that it is not so ! — 
There is , among the crowd of men engaged in 
getting their livelihoods, and making their for- 
tunes , a very large and appalling portion , who 
have no restraint whatever but what they deem , 
upon a calculation of all their means , a prepon-^ 
derating chance of exposure and punishment. 
They are utterly insensible to any emotion of 
generosity , or sting of regret , or reluctance : 
they do not feel a moment's hesitation to take 
advantage of kind confidence ; or to deceive by 
the most shameless pretensions of hypocrisy : at 
the instant they deal the blow of ruin , or ad- 
minister the poison of death , they shed crocodi- 
lian tears; they talk of the vanities of this world; 
of the worthlessness of pelf ; of the emptiness of 



GNOMICA. CH. XCV. 217 

earthly advantages ; and the only comfort to be 
had in purity of conscience ! If at last you detect 
them in robbery ; they cry , like Robin Hood , 
that « they only rob the rich ^ to give to the poor I ^^ 

Nothing will keep them in the right path but 
the iron rod of force and power. They will plun- 
der even under the gallows! They laugh at re- 
proaches ; words are wind to them ; — and they 
regard nothing but blows ! 

Yet with all their cunning and dissimulation, 
they expose the cloven foot to a shrewd eye at 
every turn ! — Men sometimes become so habi- 
tuated to evil , that they at last lose the percep- 
tion of the lines between right and wrong. -^ 
They then betray themselves , when they are not 
aware of the discovery they are making. 



CHAPTER C X V. 

The Neglected Poet 

(A Fragment, ) 

29 May 1823. 

Why mourning still ? Why does thy Sun depart 
With thine hopes buried in thy gloomy heart ? 
Thine earthly hopes ! for hope of pleasure here 
Ought still to travel onward to theiier ! 
If man is born to trouble , thou thy share, 
Not discontent , art also born to bear ! 

■28 



218 GNOMICA. CH. XCV. 

Why shouldst thou free from envy seek to find 
The paths , where half that tread them , wander 

bhnd ? 
Tis fear and want of confidence , that pour 
The poisonous bitter on the bosom's store ! 
If hght before thee shines ; if backward shines 
Light of the past ; ungrateful then repines 
Thy spirit , that , as beams of morning , gay , 
Should still unclouded throw its setting ray ! 
If not to thee belongs the noisy fame , 
That echoing clamours round another's name ; 
Wrapt in thyself , if thou art left alone 
To sigh thy fancies to the breeze's moan , 
Thou hast a world around thee , which thy wand 
Can marshal , call , dismiss at its command ! 
Lord of thyself , thou boldest from thy throne 
An empire , despot monarchs cannot own ! 
The hate of Man ; the coward , chilling blast , 
That upstart half- taught Ignorance would cast 
Upon thine artless strains , if but the spell, 
Firm to its purpose, should th' assault repell , 
Sun-pierced, like vapours foul that blot the sky, 
Back to its den of deadly fumes would fly ! 
Sin, Error , Falsehood , restless Plot , Deceit , 
Corruption , daring Violence , repeat 
From day to day upon this warring globe, 
(Where Man puts on for woe his mortal robe , ) 
Their ever- working tasks. — It is the lot. 
Which from the Book of Life Man cannot blot. 



G]>fOMICA. CH. xcv. 219 

Folly and Wickedness , by Heaven's decrees , 
Honour and profit here triumphant sieze ; 
While Virtue mourns ; and Wisdom silent sits ; 
And Genius heard , ( if heard at all , ) by fits , 
Praised with an ideot shout , is left in tears 
Lonely to waste the winter of his years : 
Hiss'd if he touch the heavenly chord; and told , 
The glass to Earth's impurities to hold ! 

etc. etc. etc. 
O thou immortal, and etherial Queen, 
Who never by unholy eye art seen; 
Thou , who in secret hold'st th' inspiring reign 
Oe'r all that ever breathed the genuine strain ; 
Where dost thou dwell ? Where Earth Iier glories 

spreads 
In mountains , vales , seas , lakes , and woods , 

and meads ? 
Or rather thro' th' empyreal air dost fly , 
Filling all space by thy ubiquity ? 
Thence passing thro the hicart of Pvlan , thy wing 
Touc-jes the mountains whence the waters spring 
Of Castaly ; — when out the torrent flows ; 
And bears th' entrancing strain of jo} s or woes ! 
Unlock'd by thee^ there , mj stic Goddess , lies 
Tlie source , whence Bards to power resistless rise ! 
It is not thine , to bid the human brain 
Plot its fantastic forms with whim insane ; 
Force to distorted shapes the simple store , 
That Memory treasures of external lore ; 



220 GNOMICA. CH. XCV. 

Then bid the voluntary maniac tell , 
That in his busy mind creations dwell ! 
Not to thine ear may such blaspheming tongue 
Outrage by childish boast the sons of song ! 

O Thou, of mien severe, to Truth allied, 
And solemn Wisdom ever by thy side ; 
How dost thou scorn the piles of glittering ore 
Raised by the false Enchanter's gaudy lore ! 
Thou who, companion fit, as Bards (^) have said, 
Sat'st by , with wonder mute , when worlds were 

made , 
Tis thine to picture with thy pencil warm 
The shadowy shapes then moulded into form : 
But most of Man; and in his heart to trace 
That sympathy with every outward grace, 
"Which trembles with mysterious joy or pain; 
Then bursts unbidden to the vocal strain ! 
Glowing beneath thy smiles , the melting chords 
Catch from thy breathing lips the magic words; 
Then out the swelling notes of music ring; 
And with wild rapture quivers every string ! 

But mimic Art , that mocking Power divine , 
The great Creator's wonders would outshine; — 
Poor driveling Art, that with a puny hand 
Bids toys and monsters rise at his command 
Then with an ideot smile of self-applause , 
IN^ew forms the soul , and gives to nature laws ; 

(1) Collins. Ode on the Voetical Character, 



GNOMICA. CH. XCV. 221 

Sports witli its work, by blind conceit betray'd ; 
Then worships the vain idol it has made! 
Art ! pitiless , iinpitiable Art ! — 
Rise , thou true Goddess ; and the lightnings dart, 
Which from thy forehead blaze; — then down 

shall fall 
Her fanes of false religion; — shrines and all! 

But thou, immortal Power, art merciful; 
And wilt not over human bosoms rule 
With rod unsparing : thy all-bounteous eye 
Will view man's yain endeavours with a sigh ; 
Forgive his boasting follies ; and will still 
To higher aims direct his froward will : 
Upon his labouring fancy, dark with toil. 
Perplexing and perplex'd , sometimes thy smile 
Will beam a casual light , and genial glow, 
That bids the purple tide in freedom flow 
Thro' the reviving heart, dispersing clouds 
Whose vapour every generous bosom shrouds! 
Then the false Seer , arising from the cell , 
Where with his demons he was Vvont to dwell. 
Comes forth to incense-breathini? day, and views 
The golden Sun; and feels his heart diffuse 
A joy unknown before; and sees around 
All nature spread before him ; every sound 
Breathes music to his ear; and every sight 
Strikes to his soul ineffable delight. 
« Give me thy lyre , thou only Queen of Song ! 
» Only to thee » , he cries , « to thee belong 



222 GNOMICA. CH. xcv. 

» The' harmonious strings of Truth ! Upon those 

strings 
» Great ISature her enraptured fingers flings; 
» And draws out notes, which Heaven ordains 

should fire 
» With rapture due immortal man's desire! 
» Within my cave full many a ^eary year 
» My tortured chords have striven to wake the 

tear 
» Deep-buried in the human breast : — in vain 
y> I urged the twisted wires ; my noisy strain 
» Fell dull and lifeless on th' insensate ear; 
» Or roar'd with senseless joy ; or writhed with 

maniac fear! 
» I hail'd strange Imps from the delirious Hall, 
» Where Spirits , as I deem'd , were at ray call ! 
» They were the fictions of a frantic mind , 
» Forced into Avildering shapes , with fury blind , 
» By pride audacious, and an heart of stone 
» Impiercible by movements not its own! 
» But thou , celestial Emanation , sprung 
» Coaeval with that prival Day , which hung 
» This pensile Orb within its azure space , 
» Who saw'st the' Omnipotent his fabric trace, 
» Beheld'st with eye congenial Chaos yield , 
» And every form of Earth to life reveal' d ; 
» Nor saw'st th' external shape alone design'd; 
» But saw'st infused in Man th' immortal Mind ! 
» Not thine the toil , to strive with fruitless art 



GNOMICA. CH. XCV. 223 

» The mirror of Creation to impart ! 
» Still at thy touch or call each form awakes ; 
» And every shape its breathing likeness takes ; 
» Each movement of the soul ; each inward 

thought ; 
» Embodied to material view is brought; 
» Each dim-discover'd tract , which human sight, 
» Unaided , faintly sees , is raised to light. » 
Thus falls the film from the false Mage's 

eyes; 
And thus th' harmonious Harp of Truth he tries : 
With force he throws his hand across the 

wire ; 
But at his touch no music will respire : 
The power that rules it , sits the soul within ; 
No outward hand the due response can win. 
With rage the lyre he dashes to the ground ; 
With dying shrieks its thousand fragments sound; 
And in dispersion sad lie broken round. 
Then thro' the air shoots forth a glittering ray ; 
And a light mocking Laughter seems to say, 
« Look up ! behold the glories of your feat ! 
» A thousand other lyres are prompt to greet 
» The gifted hand ! » — and sitting on a cloud 
A Quire of Angels strike their harps aloud : 
And harps above his head descending play ; 
Just mock his grasp ; then sail on winds away. 
Meantime in swelling stream th' eternal lay 
Sounds thro' heaven's concave , by the gifted ear 



224 Gi^roMiCA. CH. xcvi. 

Heard plain on earth , whiles with mysterious fear 
It listens to th' unwonted din of Song , 
Mazed at the strife celestial choirs among! 



CHAPTER XCVI. 

A poet must he exalted in his own private feelings and 
habits. 

21 April 1823. 

If a Poet, or a pretender to Poetry, should 
prove to be, in his private character and habits, 
of ordinary modes of thinking ; of ordinary feel- 
ings , desires , passions , and ambitions , these 
facts alone would render the genuineness of his 
poetry suspicious. 

A real poet must delight in visionary pleasures: 
his enthusiasm must be ardent : he must be en- 
marveled with grandeur, and enraptured with 
beauty : he must place his hope upon founda- 
tions, where dull minds would despair. — He 
must not vie with petty rivals in vulgar pursuits: 
he must not see things merely in their hard 
material form , unsurrounded by the rays sup- 
plied by imagination. He must live, not in the 
world as it is ; — but in a world of his own , 
such as his imagination dreams that it ought 
to be! 



GNOMICA. CH. XCVII. 225 

Gray, in the view of the world, was cold and 
fastidious : but when his enthusiasm could in- 
dulge itself with confidence , he delighted to 
nurse these visionary propensities; witness, the 
ardour with which he encouraged himself in the 
belief of Ossian : and the accidental hearing of 
the Welsh Harper , which prompted him to finish 
his Bard ! 

He who examines , dissects, and calculates, be^ 
fore he admires , can never admire with warmth* 

Vivid fancy, active and powerful imagination, 
and strong feelings, united with forcible intellect, 
and a successful cultivation of language , are ne- 
cessary to make a poet. 

Glow of colouring is one of the characteristics 
of Genius: but excellence and novelty of form 
are also requisite* 

Glow of colouring was never yet attained by 
labour and artifice* 



CHAPTER XGVIT. 

The aggravated evils of that adversity , which is driven to 
seek comfort in delusions. 

29 July 1823. 

He , who places himself, or is placed by Mis- 
fortune , in a situation , to which tiie application 
of the light of Truth gives an exposure painful 

^9 



226 GNOMICA. CH. XCVIT. 

and difficult to be endured , is often driven to 
seek the delusions of Imagination , and to encou- 
rage erroneous colours and false views of things, 
rather than to seek to dispel them. 

Thus it is that botJi misconduct and adversity 
often tend to mislead and blind the understan- 
ding , as well as to afflict and consume the heart. 

It is true that very wicked men are often very 
strong-headed ; — accurate observers ; and acute- 
reasoners : but then they are men, who see things 
exactly as they are ; at least in a narrow and 
worldly point of view. The consequences they 
predict, are precisely those which are likely to 
ensue : and though they ought not to ensue , if 
this life were a life in which Virtue were destined 
to be rewarded , and wickedness to be punished, 
the understanding of such men becomes more 
shrewd, and skilful; and their hopes are kept 
alive , in proportion as their observation continues 
close to experience , and allies itself to reality. 

He , who joins folly to wickedness ; who is 
wicked and yet unsuccessful; he who proposes 
wrong ends by inadequate and mistaken means ; 
has no consolation for the ill he commits. 

There are , however, evils in the world, which 
are not the result of bad intentions ; but of mis- 
taken judgment , and ill-founded wishes : — of 
expectations , perhaps , budt on a supposed con- 
duct of mankind different from that which a 



GNOMICA. CH. XCVIIT. 227 

nice and sober attention to actual life would 
justify. There is no guilt in this: it may often 
arise from a charitable and generous habit of im- 
puting to others stricter principles and more 
honourable motives than belong to them. But it 
often leads into snares , which human fortitude 
is not strong enough to contemplate in their 
native frightfulness. Then error begets error : 
one delusion propagates another : and though 
the imagination may flourish and even augment , 
the understanding ^x^eakens and decays. 

Sometimes indeed , this is only confined to a 
particular topic; while on all others the mind 
continues sound : — but it is , in general , more 
or less contagious. — 



CHAPTER XCVIII. 

B.epetitions of opinions not always tautologies. 

23 May i8a3. 

These Papers contain opinions principally on 
Poetry , and more particularly English poetry, 
in which perhaps there may be a good deal of 
tautology : but in the endeavour to impress some 
great principle, it is probable that the occasional 
variety of the language which may have suggested 
itself at the moment, will have contributed to 



228 GNOMICA. CH. XCVIII. 

enforce the development of the idea. — It is only 
by repeated renewals of our labour that we 
arrive at the mastery over some of the difficult 
and evanescent distinctions of the mind : What 
is borrowed and ready-made for us , seems quite 
easy in the adoption : it is not , however , so easy 
to create. 

There are minds , which will take nothing 
without examination ; without going through the 
process of thought themselves. 

But if they do by any chance, either to fulfill 
an imposed task , or in hurry or weariness , 
write from memory , and not from conviction , 
they lose whatever charm , or force , they had 
before ; and become inferiors even in a very 
minor class, 

I am quite convinced that Sincerity is one of 
the primary charms in the poetry of Burns : and 
that if he ever used memory , it was only to aid 
him in expressing his own images and feelings. 

J St Y^g cannot surrender up our minds to any 
one , whom we do not think in earnest. 

1,^ I^o affecter of feelings ever really hits the 
true chords. 



G^'OMICA. CH. xcix. 229 

CHAPTER XCIX. 

Gray's Travels. 

27 Jan. 1S23. 

Griy in his Travels with Walpole , 1 739-1 741 , 
followed the usual routes through France and 
Italy. 

The first object of magnificence in scenery 
which seems to have struck him was the position 
of the Grande Chartreuse , which he visited in an 
excursion from Lyons to Geneva, by the line of 
Savoy , in the direction of Chambery. 

He afterwards crossed the Alps by Mont Cenis 
to Turin , and Genoa : and thence back to Pla- 
cenza , Parma, Reggio , Modena , and Bologna. — 
Whence he crossed the Apennines to Florence 
and passed over these ^Mountains again , at 
another point , to Rome : and terminated his 
travels south at IN^aples. — On his return, he 
passed northward thro' Lombardy to Venice; 
and thence back through Milan to Turin : and 
homeward by the same route as he came. 

The qualities which fit a man to travel to ad- 
vantage, and to relate his travels to advantage, 
are not common. Correct and profound obser- 
vations upon life , manners , and politics, are not 
very easily made : a fine and accurate taste for 
the Arts , though pretensions are often made to 



230 GNOMICA. CH. CXIX. 

it , is very rare : — and a description of the 
scenery of nature, clear, yet not feeble ; — for- 
cible , yet not ostentatious and overwrought; 
enthusiastic yet simple and unaffected ; — with 
« words » not glaring and pompous , but such as 
c( burn y> with genuine fire; — is not to be effected 
by any but by a mind of the most rich poetical 
power. 

Gray possessed this high and enviable endow- 
ment. It requires a brilhant perception: but this 
is not all : it demands something far beyond a 
mere brilliant perception. The choice of features 
and circumstances is partly formed by an exqui- 
site intellectual sensibility and judgment ; the 
exact line between that which is too general, 
and that which perplexes by minuteness , is sel- 
dom duly seen or duly adhered to. 

Gray's pictures, though rich, are never strain- 
ed. He still uses an economy of phrase : he 
leaves an impression, that his ideas are still richer, 
than his words ; that «more is meant than meets 
the ear » ; and that his raptures are so unsought, 
that they break out in spite of him. 

It does not require much ingenuity to be 
florid ; to round sentences ; and to embroider 
with clusters of images and metaphors. But there 
is « a sober certainty of delight » in what Gray 
undertakes to register , that carries with it an 
authority and faith not to be resisted. 



GNOMICA, CH. C. 231 

C H A P T E R C. 

Pictures of the penetralia of poetical minds , curious and 
instructive. 

12 J'-df J 823. 

The impression on the mind , wliicli is violent , 
is not always clear ; because its violence may 
make its effect tumultuous. 

It is long before the tumults caused by the 
vivacity of the Senses of Genius subside. When 
therefore the man of Genius enters life, he sees 
every thing through a mist. 

To be successful in the world , it is necessary 
to see things exact^ as they are. But tliere is an 
additional cause why men of Genius do not do so. 
They see things as they wish them to be : or as 
their imaginations represent them. 

The belief that mankind are more virtuous 
or more benevolent tiian they really are , leads 
the believer into perpetual snares. The seeing 
things in tljeir precise and exact colours, is that 
useful faculty which is called shrewdness or sa- 
gacity. But he may be slirewd in the closet , who 
is confused and deranged in tlje conflict of 
action. 

It is the perpetual contest between imagination 
and judgment, whicii is among the evils that tor- 
ment Genius. — A consciousness of this inconsi- 



232 GNOMICA. CH. C. 

stency haunts it : and always occupies it in 
struggling to develop and reconcile it. 

All the mysteries of our strangely -united intel- 
lectual and material nature exhibit themselves 
in full operation in persons of Genius ; and thus 
court its observation , and harrass its curiosity. 

Pride , hope , sorrow , temptation , submission 
and repentance , impel , delude , and afflict the 
kindling fancy and susceptible heart of persons 
highly endowed. When they are tempted to lay 
the pictures of these curious emotions before the 
world, they perform a most difficult and impor- 
tant service in opening the penetralia of intellect* 
Thus when Rousseau and Lord Byron paint 
their strange perturbations and wild passions , 
they awaken all the secret springs of the human 
mind and human heart from their cells. 

When a Poet has long dealt with these visio- 
nary subjects, he courts rather than strives to 
appease this agitated temperament of intellect. 
It is the source of his occupations, and the instru- 
ment of his fame. He does not encourage that 
cold philosophy , which by destroying his won- 
ders, and rendering him calm and easy, would at 
the same time extinguish his enthusiasm. 

In some Beings Nature seems to have implanted 
a Satanic love of wickedness ; a revengeful joy 
at the sorrows and misfortunes of Mankind ; as if 
in retaliation for success ill -deserved^ or unme^ 



GNOMICA. CH. C. 233 

rited distinction bestowed on meanness and folly: 
— or as if in anger to the Creator for not having 
bestowed enjoyments more congenial to the 
hopes , desires , and imaginations of an aspiring 
Soul! 

Grand thougbts, and eloquent and magnificient 
language often arise from a mind thus construc- 
ted and disciplined. 

The contrasts between the most sublime or 
exquisite forms of ideal beauty , and the hate- 
fulness of vulgar and loathsome reality related 
with bitter force , become doubly striking in 
the productions of Genius so constituted ! The 
very freedom from restraint and boldness which 
it gives , is a great assistant to success. 

We love the representation of violent passions; 
and feel a sympathy with them , even when we 
do not experience them originally in ourselves. 

Those gentle spirits , which see every thing 
correctly and amiably, but feebly and faintly , 
have none of the attributes of Genius. Labour 
and polish will do but little. We want energy 
and strong impulse. What authors cannot feel, 
they cannot imagine ! — 

The taste in England , as well as in Germany , 
is a taste for what is striking and powerful. The 
French have always liked better the poetry of 
reason and good sense. And the Court of Ch. u. 
introduced this taste into England; — and it 

3o 



234 GNOMIC A. CH. C. 

continued to prevail till the death of Pope : viz. 
nearly ninety years. That which followed , tho' it 
took a little more boldness and energy of lan- 
guage and dress , yet continued for the most part 
tame in thought and sentiment. Art , and techni- 
calities, predominated. The wild flights of real 
passion; the perturbations of a strong mind dis- 
appointed , indignant , and daring ; had not ven- 
tured to cloathe themselves in unpremeditated 
and unforced poetry. 

There may be a clear fancy , and an active 
imagination, without much passion : — but this 
defect must always retain a poet below the high- 
est class. V/hat is merely material can never 
impress and affect, like that which is combined 
with intellectual emotion, when that intellectual 
emotion is calculated to agitate the heart. 

All those associations , sentiments, and reflec- 
tions , which are generated by an intense and 
long-continued reflection upon a subject , have 
for the most part a peculiar and constrained con- 
nection with it , which raises no instantaneous 
and unprompted sympathy in the reader's mind : 
and which therefore seldom , if ever , touches 
his heart ; — because the heart must be touched 
instantly , if at all. There is a natural sympathy 
of the heart with certain images , which is not 
the result of reasoning or meditation; but the 
immediate result of intrinsic impulse. • — To feel 



G^OMICA. CH. CI. 235 

this; and to have the clearness of perception, 
and command of language , by which he who 
feels can communicate his feeling to others ; are 
far h^om hem^ the same thinc^.I — 



CHAPTER CL 

Just Ifivention. 



J 111 



The word - dealers in poetry are men of ready 
memory, and a certain degree of technical skill. 
— They hare a feeble fancy, no miagination, and 
little feeling. 

It is not necessary that a Tale of InA'ention 
should adhere to the daily minutifp of actual life. 
These minutiae continually chanoe with the fashion 
of the day ; and what is interesting while that pre- 
vails , becomes absurd , after its us^ge has passed. 

Coarse minds can only be operated upon by 
the associations of the actual events with which 
thev are conversant. What is abstract, or general, 
or visionar\', does not touch them. But great in- 
tellects delight m the sublime and indefinite 
outlines of Avhat is general : — with them the 
very particularity, which rouses dull faculties, 
destroys the charm. 

Invention duly exercised, is the noblest of all 
our mental faculties. — But it must have its 



236 GNOMICA. CH. CI. 

sources in the strong , native, and virtuous emo- 
tions of the heart : it must he supphed by moral 
knowlege, and directed by moral wisdom : its 
materials must be enriched by sagacious enquiry, 
and profound thought. It must be impelled by 
energy , enthusiasm, and love of glorious fame. 

It must deal in what is grand or beautiful in 
sentiment, imagery, and thought , and what is 
eloquent, and noble, or elegant, in expression. 

At a crisis when the Public, — that is the 
Blultitude , — are accustomed to be indulged 
with something more piquant, more full of inci- 
tement , than what a sound intellect can supply, 
or approve , these things indeed may seem flat 
and dull to the generality of readers. Glaring 
colours, monstrous combinations, have unfitted 
the eye for what is chaste and genuine. As he , 
who has long lived in the delirium of wine , 
festive company , throngs of people , and pom- 
pous shews , would sink into apathy or despon- 
dence amid the quiet grandeur of solitary Nature: 
or would pine for want of refreshment beside 
fountains of the purest water ! 

To invent an human character, at once pro- 
bable, interesting, elevated , and virtuous , is no 
light achievement of the mind. — To put it in 
motion ; to create incidents in which it may dis- 
play itself, augments the merit. — Copies of rea- 
Hty would probably be coarse and dull. — Reality 



GNOMICA. CH. CII. 237 

is always in the way of our most dignified and 
most refined feelings : it crosses them ; and in- 
fuses something bitter , or something ordinary 
and degrading. It is only therefore in characters 
of Invention that we can keep the stream exalted. 
— It must not be such as moments of passion 
alone delight to represent , and which moments 
of reason condemn. It must be passion sanctioned 
by reason. 

It is of the essence of the fancy and imagina- 
tion of Genius, to colour deeply; to exalt and 
improve : to give the likeness ; but to give it 
heightened. — It is therefore incompatible with 
the essence of Poetry to choose ugliness , defor- 
mity , and squalid misery for its theme. If it were 
otherwise , it would be its business to render 
what revolts , more revolting. 



CHAPTER CII. 

Tests of Originality. 

4 Jane 1823. 

The test of Poetry is , whether the author 
shews the marks of inspiration: whether he seems 
under the unsought dominion of the Muse ! 
whether lie is under the force of a fulness, which 
struggles at language no further, than as it is the 
vehicle of thought ! 



238 GNOMICA. CH. CII. 

They wlio labour much at the workmanship, 
cannot be under tiie influence of much enthu- 
siasm. 

Whatever image is taken tiro' the medium of 
the t}pes of language is necessarily unoriginal. 
Language should follow , not precede, the origin 
of an image. It may be doubled , if they wlio 
derive the image from the language, have any 
thing more than a technical perception of the 
image: with tlem the language is the substance ; 
not tlie vel icle. 

And tiiis distinction seems to me to pervade 
the compositions of all secondary poets. The 
image itself is not present to them; but the words 
of some predecessor. Dugald Stewart speaks of a 
memory of ivords ; and not of things. 

The dealer in words is a workman of technical 
compositions. Such compositions may dazzle ; 
but they never cause simple and profound impres- 
sions. 

Men of memory are ductile and ready : t! ey 
catch all ciiaracters , but are possessed by none. 
Tuey never draw from nature : they have no 
self- motion \ but alw ays derive their impulse 
from others. 

Wiiat comes to us thro' the medium of language, 
we may reject, when we v. ill: — but what 
comes direct upon the mind , it is not in our 
power to set aside. A Genius therefore is never a 



GWOMICA. CH. CII. 239 

master of his feelings or his thoughts. His ener- 
gies , his enthusiasms, the « possession of the 
spirit » , shew themselves in defiance of his at- 
tempt at controul : and he becomes a character 
marked by pecuharities; eccentricities; and per- 
haps, imprudences. 

Every thing of personal history in the bio- 
graphy of poets is confirmatory of this position. 
Of ail, whose productions are admitted by the 
test of time to be of the genuine ore , the per- 
sonal characteristics are energy , deep or quick 
sensibility, fixed opinions, unaffected love of the 
vast or the beautiful ; and a contemplative , 
visionary , unworldly turn of mind. 

Images are always present to them ; — images 
of the mind, not of external objects. If they were 
dependent on the presence of external objects , 
they woukl be at the mercy of place , time^, and 
accident. 

The great distinction of a poet is to be visio- 
nary : to live in an ideal world. 

I do not believe the representation of external 
objects to be the purpose of poetry : but the 
representation of mental images , in association 
with feelings and reflections. 

I do not believe the explanations , which me- 
taphysical philosophy furnishes , proper to form 
the spring of poetical pleasure. Therefore a di- 
dactic poem , explaining metaphysically the/?/ea- 



240 



GNOMICA. CH. cm. 



sures of Memory oy pleasures of Hope , is fLinda- 
mentally erroneous. Poetry looks to instanta- 
neous effects ; not to those which are produced 
by the gradations of a chain of reasoning. This 
analysis, this dissection , is the very thing that 
destroys the charm. 

In Invention , there must be a grandeur and 
softness of soul ; an energy and tenderness of 
affection ; a brilliance and majesty of fancy ; a 
penetration and sagacity of judgment; an insight 
into that course, which, by the decrees of Provi- 
dence , the passions of Man almost universally 
follow. 

When, about twenty-eight years ago, the system 
of English poetry , satiated with words instead of 
images, underwent a violent revolution , it seems 
to have passed , not from words to thoughts or 
visions , but from words to realities ; or whal; 
were deemed realities. — - Hence it fell into alter- 
nations of coarseness and extravagance. 



CHAPTER cm. 

Nobility may be made too numerous and common. 

3o May 1823. 

Nothing is more idle and nonsensical than the 
talk of unthinking , mean-passioned, people on 
the subject of the Peerage, 



GNOMicA. CH. cm. 241 

When it is contended , that it ought not to 
be indiscriminately and profusely conferred , 
these people are up in arms, as if there were 
a wish to confine it to a ]?rwileged Few ; and 
to refuse it to Merit, and to Riches, which 
they often argue as being in some degree tan- 
tamount to merit. 

When I contend that it ought not to be 
too nurperous , they confound the number with 
the quality of the persons created. 

I argue , that men not particularly distin- 
guished in any way , either for birth, wealth , 
or personal merit , afford no colour of apo- 
logy for the augmentation of numbers ; and 
can only be created from corrupt motives. 

Personal merit , of a very high class , such 
as brilliant success as chiefs in war , may jus- 
tify the creation , — even tho' the Individual 
be without birth or riches. 

My opponents then turn round upon me , 
and say that Mobility without riches is dange- 
rous : and therefore that it is necessary to in- 
troduce the creation of the Rich at the same 
time , to counterpoise this weakness. 

But why mere riches ? If this absurd pre- 
tence for a counterpoise be admitted , cannot 
riches be found united with birth and merit? ' 

The meaning of these puzzle-headed arguers 
is merely to find a colour for making wealth 

3i 



242 GNOMICA. CH. CIV. 

the ground of Nobility ! — They even assert 
that , as to confer benefits on one's country is 
the most just ground of reward and distinction, 
so commerce is the greatest benefit to a country; 
and therefore ought to be so rewarded and 
distinguished. 

But how are the greatest commercial Riches 
made? — - By deahngs on the stock-exchange; 
which they consider not only commerce ; but 
the most honourable sort of commerce! — Did 
the nation ever receive benefit from such dea- 
lings ? 



CHAPTER CIV. 

u4 day without a line. 

Sonnet. 

26 May 1823. 

A day without a line! — It is not so , 

That I would waste this transient feverish life, 
That in its heat consumes the short - breathed 

trace 
Of its own passage! I would still record 
Each momentary pang , born in the strife 
Of daily turmoil with a world , wdiere grace 
Falls on the worthless only; where, abhorr'd 

By base Corruption , Virtue walks in woe ! — 



GNOMICA. CH. cv. 243 

Shill busy is my brain : the past awakes 
To join the present: and the future sails 
Like a black mass of rolling cloud , which 

breaks 
The struggling light; and then a chill comes on: 
Thus sable o'er this chequer'd scene prevails, 
And griefs check pleasures almost ere they 

dawn. (^) 



CHAPTER CV. 

Speculation and Action, 

\o Sept. 1823. 

It cannot be too often repeated that Pro- 
vidence does not require the same tasks from 
all mankind ; and that our duties and destinies 
comprehend an innumerable variety of pursuits, 
occupations , and ends. 

To design and to execute , is often allotted 
to different persons and different qualifications. 
That nicety of observation which applies a prin- 
ciple correctly to a particular case , is widely 
different from the Genius which develops it 
from a large and general survey and exami- 

(1) This is an attempt to substitute a new arrangement 
of rhymes for the Sonnet. 



2AA GNOMIC A. CH. CV. 

nation. The soundness of a doctrine ought not 
to be impeached, because he who teaches it is 
not always skilful in putting it into action. 

All discoveries , all that is original in the 
propagation of Truth, are effected by the light 
of Imagination. The man of Imagination is en- 
tided to assume his premises: but practical 
skill and wisdom depend upon an accurate 
observation of premises , over which the prac- 
titioner has no command. 

The faculties exercised therefore in specula- 
tion and in action are quite distinct, and almost 
opposite. 

But what is true in theory , must be true 
in practice : when it seems to be otherwise, 
the cause must be, that the principle is not 
really and strictly applicable to the case. When 
the facts come accurately within the limits of 
a principle , it is dangerous and inadmissible 
to endeavour to evade the obligation by any 
excuse founded on the supposition of a con- 
trariety between truth in speculation and truth 
in action. 

The unconscientious, corrupt, and insensible 
wretches , v^^ho for the most part carry on the 
affairs of the world , always deal in this pro- 
fligate excuse. The lessons of theory are with 
theni no longer operative , than while they make 
for their purpose. The instant that they come 



GNOMICA. CH. CV. 2-45 

in their way , they get rid of them by the 
opprobrious epithet oi speculative dogmas! When 
they desire to refuse such authorities, they ought 
to endeavour to rid themselves of the applica- 
bility of the facts : if they cannot do this , the 
charge that the rule from which they would be 
dispensed is speculative , can never justly avail 
them. 

It is not meant to decry the value of prac- 
tical wisdom in its proper sense: but when it 
puts itself in opposition to theory, and claims 
a superiority over it ^ then its pretensions are 
at once false and ridiculous. It can advance but 
a few steps without theory ; and when it goes 
in opposition to it , it is sure to be wrong : 
that is , it proves itself to be a pretender , and 
forfeits the right to the name which it assumes. 

The use of speculative intelligence , which is 
often remote, circuitous, hidden, and contin- 
gent, can never be appretiated by men of dull 
faculties , hard hearts, and low and selfish pur- 
suits. That which is not direct in its conse- 
quences , and which does not tend strait to the 
individual's private interest , is deemed idle , 
fanciful , and empty. They do not think it pos- 
sible that any one can sincerely waste his labours 
and energies for any benefit except his own. 

In Beings of mean qualities and niean am 
bitions , the w^orld is content to find any thing 



246 GNOMICA. CH. CVI. 

of good : but from the highly - endowed and 
the highly-cultivated it exacts incompatibilities 
and impossibilities. It calls on them to be as 
skilfu] in little things , as wise in great : — with 
glances accustomed to range through the Uni- 
verse , it calls upon them for microscopic at- 
tention; and invariable accuracy in trifles. When 
their imaginations are creating ideal existences, 
it charges them with crime , because they 
wander away from hard realities! — 



CHAPTER CVI. 

T E B AL D O. 

( A Fragment, J 

i8 June 1823.. 

Pent in this mortal clay , the Spirit lives 
And burns sometimes, till its pervading fire 
Changes the earthly substance to a veil 
Transparent , and to golden atoms turns 
The film of massy darkness. In the mind 
Then lies all happiness. Those elements 
Of matter, which this human frame compose, 
Then yield dominion to the soul that rules 
O'er all emotion, will, hope , fear, and end. 
Sensation then expires not with itself: 10 

But onward to the heart its rays are borne ; 



GNOMICA. CH. CI. 247 

And there into its inmost shrines received , 
Rich with the streams where they have laved , 

return , 
And colour every thought , and give a glow 
To new Imagination's varying lights. 

In a lone Tower , that frown'd upon a glen 
Of beechen forest , sunk within the heights 
Of the gigantic Appenines, was born 
Tebaldo : he was sprung of generous blood 
In fortune's evil hour : a Troubadour 20 

His father long had wandered, from his realms 
Exiled by tyrant usurpation : Love 
Had led a damsel of his Court to join 
His flying steps; in all his dangers share ; 
And vow eternal faith to him alone. 
Such was Tebaldo' s mother: ere he knew 
To prize a mother's care , the cruel stroke 
Of Death removed the blessing from his reach ; 
And then his childhood pass'd in solitude : 
For oft his father roved abroad ; and long 3o 

Long months was absent; — a devoted nurse 
His sole companion left. The wintry night 
Heard the loud winds crossing from sea to sea 
With mighty roar ; and Adriatic waves 
Mingling their spray upon the winged blast 
With that Mid Ocean whose broad waters part 
Iberian shores from Afric's barbarous land. 
And when the year's departing glories threw 
Light golden tints upon the sloping groves 



248 GNOMICA. CH. CVI. 

Of beechen foliage , the lone pensive child ^o 

Would sit enraptured , half as if in dreams, 
And half with eye and ear drinking delight 
At every image, ray , tint , cloud , or sound : 
Or when his hands and dancing limbs would call 
For active exercise , in fragrant heaps 
He cull'd the falling leaves, and with the store 
Built fairy castles , and fantastic bowers. 

Within the massy walls of that grim Tower , 
The only dwelling-place he yet had known , 
When rain in mountain torrents fell , or snow 5o 
In gathering whirlwinds whelm'd the face of 

Heaven , 
He still had occupations not unfit 
For his excursive spirit : much of lore , 
Historic , Legendary , Fabulous , 
His Sire , in characters he knew to read , 
Had left: and much he read each wondrous tale ; 
And much his fancy added ; much his heart 
Swell'd with new glory, and ambition's fire. 
His aged fond companion still could give 
Store of adventures strange, which never pen 60 
Had yet recorded, gather'd from the lips 
Of her still absent Lord : and still the bud 
Of his fed mind expanded with the showers 
Of fertilising manna , which each day 
Fell on its growing strength. A mouldering spire 
High-lifted on the battlemented square , 
That roofd his ruin'd dwelling, sometimes drew 



GNOMIC A. CH. CVI. 249 

His truant feet to climb its tapering rise , 
And sit upon its giddy top ; and thence 
Catch the dim ghmpse of waters , which the 

chain ^o 
Of earthly ridge gigantic as a bar 
Cut into two vast Oceans : « Does that world 
))0f restless rolling element divide 
»My Sire and me ? O how I wish that I 
»Could pass its aweful limits , and behold 
»Scenes more congenial to my wild desires ? » 
And now the purple bloom of youth began 
To mantle on his cheek ; and feats of arms , 
And tales of battle, on his wondering mind 
Held not exclusive sway : the strain , that told 
A lady's beauty , or a lover's woes , 
Began to rival, and then supersede 
His earlier sympathies : he dream'd of love ; 
And beauty in celestial charms array 'd 
He saw in all his visions. Wide he roam'd 
O'er neighbouring heights and dells and slopes ; 

but saw 
"No creature such as his rapt fancy drew. 
Sometimes amid the shades, on violet banks 
Just opening to the Sun, his eye entranced 
At distance drew the forms of sleeping nymphs 90 
Scarce shadow'd by transparent veils , in glow 
Of heavenly charms: but ere he nearer drew, 
The vision was dissolved in air : sometimes 
A peasant girl in nature's simple glow , 

32 



250 GNOMICA. CII. CVI. 

Caught the rich tint from his imagination ; 

And seem'd an angel , till the approach hetray'd 

The wikl dehision. But he fed his hopes 

Stili with the waking dreams , which thro' the 

dav 
His mind's creations foster'd. The high notes 
Of many a bard inspired, from hour to hour, loo 
And week to week he con'd , till equal strains 
He struggled to indite; and as the web 
Of his bright textures stronger grew , he seiz'd 
The lyre, and struck the chords s) mphoniously 
To his young fablings. In the yellow^ groveo 
!Nymphs seem'd to people the dim shadowy 

haunts , 
And gleamy openings: cross the concave dells 
To the opposing slopes the harp's vibrations 
Flung the rebounding tones: the beechen glens 
Of Appenine became a fairy haunt ; no 

And Heaven's now irreversible decree 
Destin'd Tebaldo to the calling high , 
And only fate , to which a Bard is doom'd. 

The youthful Bard had thro' a toilsome 

day 1 1 4 
Roved till his limbs were weary ; stretch'd at 

night 
On the hard pallet of his native home , 
He slumber'd deep, till a strange vision came; 
It had an angel's shape and wings : the blaze 
Of an angelic beauty ; and a voice 



GNOMICA. CH. CI. 251 

Melodious , as if of celestial birth. 120 

It stood below Lis feet ; and gazing long 

With smiles of good ineffable , it spake 

Thus to his ravish'd ears, «0 come with me; 

^Kise from this dreary solitude : the world , 

))And all its joys await thee!» At the sound, 

Or seeming sound, he woke : but all was dark, 

And silent : then a chill came over him; 

And in the hope the vision might again 

Visit his longing senses, he composed 

Himself again to slumber: but the Form i3o 

Ileturn'd not : and he rose with feverish pain 

To soothe his restless spirits with the balm 

Of morning air fresh blowing o'er those heights 

Aerial: the faint murmur of the wave 

That, leagues away, foam'd on the shelving shore, 

He deem'd his. ear could catch: he climb'd the 

spire 
And thought he saw the white sails , ( which in 

song 
Of bold Crusader were so oft rehearsed , ) 
Borne on the wave quick -glancing in the Sun ; 
Then down with trembling hands and beating 

heart i 40 
Fast from that giddy seat he came: a scrip, 
Companion of his childish walks, he seized , 
And rush'd to take a slight farewell of her , 
Who nursed his infancy , and to that hour 
Was almost all that he of social knew. 



252 GNOMICA. CH. CI. 

((Beloved, revered! a spirit calls! I go 

))Beyoiid my wonted rambles ! if ray feet 

5) At night-fall do not reach their usual home , 

»Alarm not thy fond heart ! I go to seek 

»My father : — and the call of Heaven impels, 1 5o 

;)Vvliere Hope resistless points to Glory's paths ! » 

There was no pause for a reply : as if 
With winged swiftness his light form withdrew ; 
And mid the foliage of the beechen glen 
Eluded sight. The Dame astounded sat 
Mute, trembling, tearless: her amazed thought, 
Eeft of conjecture, sunk to vacancy: 
And when the night return'd , the same dull state 
Render'd her senseless of tlie void : .the morn 
Broke on her stupor ; and another day i6o 

Was still without account : another night ; 
And yet no footsteps: a low murmur rose 
Up from the grove that at tlie rocky base 
Of the lone Turret sloped t' th' dingle: blasts 
Tiicn shriek'd to th' Adriatic: by th' alarm 
The sad deserted Dame aroused, exclaim'd, 
((O my Tebaldo ! thy defenceless head, 
»Where rests it now ? ^^ And then she wept; and 

tears 
Believed her sorrow : and from day to day 
Still she wept on , till a calm melancholy 170 

Subdued her mind to patience ; and the time 
RoU'd smooth, tho' tedious; and by fits sweet 

Hope 



GNOMICA. CH. CI. 253 

Would break the clouds by transient rays of 

light. 
Tebaldo rambled far ; and rested nought , 
Till Night's dark mantle overspread his patli. 
Then in an humble cot he entrance found ; 
And hospitable cheer , tliough homely : much 
His host he question'd; and his host as much 
Of him demanded : long his road had been ; 
Descending still; yet never at the base. i8o 

But he at length was near t^,e plain : he learn'd 
Many a strange tale of weary travellers 
Passing the same worn path : for oft the cot 
Tempted the wanderer when the sliades of night 
Surprised him at the m.oimtain's foot : a book 
Lay on the sliclf whicre pilgrims wont to sign 
Some brief memorial of tlicir resting place. 
Here many a name , and many a mystic note , 
And many a wish , and many a sentiment , 
Tebaldo read with curious e^^e, while thoughts 190 
Busy , confused , and multitudinous , 
Loaded his aching mind ; and to his heart 
Sunk with oppressive weight ; for much of grief, 
Of danger, disappointment , wrong , and pain , 
And want, they spoke; and benefits forgot; 
And ill return'd for good ; and faithless love ; 
And Beauty's treacherous charms ; and emptiness 
Of station, honours, riches ; and the prayer 
For still retreats , where from a stormy world 
Virtue and Innocence alone are safe, 200 



26A GNOMICA. CH. CI. 

cds this an omen ? is it destiny , » 
Tebaldo cried, «that at the outset thus 
»I meet a bKght to all my sanguine hopes ? » 
Aurora pierced the shades of night : the song 
Of earliest bird greeted the rising ray , 
When sad Tebaldo , by deep slumbers sootlied , 
Awaked refresh'd : \\q bade his iiost adieu 
With many a grateful wisli; and on his road 
Trudged lightly thro' the dews ; tlie mountain- 
tops 
Lost in the billowy vapours , with the clouds 210 
Seem'd mingled ; and now with a wistful look 
He turn'd his eyes with starting tears bedew'd , 
But saw no Tower, that many a league was wont 
From topmost Appenine summits to reflect 
The glancing sunbeam : his presumptuous zeal 
Had rasiily ventured , till wliate'er had grown 
Twined with his heart-strings, was removed,. 

perchance 
Removed for ever : fix'd he stood ; and paused 
A moment as if lie his hasty steps 
Would backward trace ! But shame and self- 
reproach 220 
Revived his resolution ; and again 
\Yiili an elastic spring he rusii'd away 
Still downward to tiie plain: then in the gleam 
Of kindling Dawn a cluster of light spires 
And towers and battlements announced a ville ^ 
Such as the illumined page of rich Rom.a:ice 



GNOMICA. CH. CI. 255 

Had often pictured to fiis wondering eye. 
Ere yet an hour Iiad pass'd, fiis ready step 
Approacli'd the frowning fortress , where the 

guard 
Of massy draw bridge, and the spiked power aSo 
Of iron-tooth'd portcullis , tyrant-like , 
All entrance but at will forbade. Profound 
Tiiro' his young bosom tremors ran, and shook 
His light and healthful limbs, but open stood 
The studded folding-gates, and down tlie bridge 
Fell even with the path ; and peasant-trains 
With their green offerings loaded, greeting pass'd 
The fearful arch ; — and mingled with the rest, 
Himself of peasant-mien, Tebaldo went. 
Within was all in movement ; flags display'd, 240 
And canopies high-lifted ; ribbon'd maids , 
And lads in holiday attire ; and sound 
Of hammers busy; and display of seats 
Row above row of new-raised scaffolding ; 
And moving bands of music , in far streets 
Scatter'd, that with a minglement of notes 
And strange conflicting echoes fiU'd the air. 247 



256 GNOMICA. CH. evil. 

CHAPTER CYIT. 

Extract of a Letter. 

The line of worldly success. 
Use of Books. 

12 Sept. 1823. 

All the good and complacence of life depends 
on opinion and sentiment: and all one has to do , 
or wishes to have to do , with fa.cts, is to keep 
them down , and manage them , so as not to 
disturb or overturn these more essential sources 
of our proper Being. — 

There is no knowlege which the vulgar think 
of any value except tfjat which conduces to 
what they ca.ll practical wisdom. — By prac- 
tical wisdom they mean a skill in the artifices 
and tricks , by which worldly-minded men suc- 
ceed in life over the ill-placed faith of simple 
rectitude. 

It is now become clear to my conviction 
that no one can advance himself in life by honest 
means. — Providence permits this : and we are 
not bound to account for it, to justify our be- 
lief in it. — 

The great weapon of success is hypocrisy and 
dissimulation. And if it be so , and we cannot 
help it , nothing is more desirable tiian to knovif 
that it is so — 



GNOMICA. CH. CVII. 257 

All Other knowlege is nothing compared with 
an insight into the human character, — with 
an acquaintance with the movements of the 
heart; and the springs of action. — No valuable 
inteUigence is drawn from dry facts ; we want 
principles and axioms. 

It must not be supposed, that because there 
is only one mode of success in the line of 
ambition or riches, that therefore ail other kinds 
of intellectual eminence are idle and empty. — 
A very large portion of the mass of mankind 
are not destined either to pursue ambition, or 
to seek riches. — They have to live upon the 
plenty, or the competence, which their lot has 
bestowed upon them : and they are at leisure 
to enlighten or adorn their situation by wider 
principles of truth, and more disinterested viev,s 
of what surrounds them , than those who are 
following by detestable chichanery their own 
private benefit. — 

To such persons an ideal world is infinitely 
more desirable to be cultivated , than a cold 
and dull adherence to hard reality. — In their 
intercourse with business indeed it will not do: 
because business cannot with impunitj assnme 
that mankind are better than they are ; nor lay 
aside that suspicion and severe enquiry , of 
which the absence is sure to be taken advan- 



tage of. ~~ 



33 



258 GNOMICA. CH. CVII. 

It raises an irresistible inference that it is 
not the intention of onr nature , that we should 
always be thinking of ourselves, and our own 
affairs and interests, — when we consider, that 
no mind ^f sensibility, generosity, and virtue, 
can continue for any length of time to brood 
over its own concerns without producing morbid 
anxiety and diseased enfeeblement or fever of 
intellect. Relaxation, and a change to subjects 
less intensely personal, always becomes neces- 
sary. 

If food and amusement are wanted for the 
body, — what does he deserve who finds food 
and amusement for the mind ? — 

Yet men who devote themselves to these 
honourable services, are neglected , despised, 
and calumniated. — 



1 3 Sept. 

The Mob are apt to say , that Books teach 
us nothing practical, — nothing which enables 
us to act better. — ■ Many books do not, — be- 
cause they are bad books , — written by un- 
sound and false minds ; — which are specious , 
but not wise ; — which deal in charlatanic 
frippery, either from vanity, or mistaken power, 
or mercenary desire to obtain money by 
pampering the corrupt appetites of the Public. 



GIN^OMICA. CH. CVII. 259 

But a good Book jnust have influence over 
action , as well as thought. Yet suppose it had 
not, — its use is not destroyed. Human Beings 
are as responsible for a right mind y as for a 
right conduct ! It is not sufficient that good 
should be done ! — it must be done from right 
jnoti^es I The head and the heart must be pure, 
as well as the hand and the tongue. — 

When silly people talk of Poetry as an idle 
occupation , they do not know what true Poetry 
is. — Poetry is the highest class of moral phi- 
losophy , — animated with life , and enforcing 
its truths by brilliant , touching , and irresis^ 
tible eloquence. 

The narrowness and selfishness of common 
and groveling minds tries every one's talents 
and qualities, by the sole test of the degree of 
his success in advancing his own personal in- 
terests in the world ! — But so far as this is 
a test at all , — it is the test of mean facul- 
ties, and a base disposition. — A man's private 
interests are, in nine cases out of ten, opposite 
to the principles of truth and virtue. 

When once the intellect is directed to watching 
opportunity , and taking advantage of weakness, 
carelessness, or torpor, it becomes crooked, 
and rotten , even if its native tendency and 
power be good. 

Mankind are in general too stupid to see 



260 GNOMICA. CH. CVIII. 

the use of that , of which tlje consequences are 
not direct. They cannot perceive tl^erefore how 
tliC wis<]om operates , which throws its light 
circuitouslj , or from a distance, — 



CHAPTER CVIII. 

Sincerity in composition, 

II Sulf 1823. 

All that is said pompously and vainly, goes 
for nothing. Truth and sincerity at once touch 
the heart and the understanding. 

True Genius has a character impressed upon 
it by Nature indelibly and irreversibly. Its im- 
pressions are positive, not accidental : unattai- 
nable by art ; and unchangeable by art. A man 
of mere talent may direct himself by the models 
which his genius and his wishes choose. What- 
ever therefore is held best in the reigning day, 
he naturally desires to imitate : — but this 
changes ; and he has therefore no fixed cha- 
racter. 

But what is fixed by nature, even though 
bestowed on few ; is sure to find a mirror 
in the minds of others who have it not. 

« Each of those illustrious writers » ( Rousseau 
and Byron,) says the Ed. Rev.^' N.° 60. p. 88,-— 



GXOMICA. CH. CVIII. 261 

(c has filled his work with expressions of his 
» own character , — has unveiled to the world 
» the secrets of his own Being , — the mysteries 
)) of the framing of man. They have gone clown 
» into those depths which every man may sound 
y) for himself J though not for another; and they 
» have made disclosures to tlie world of what they 
w beJield and knew there ; — disclosures thai have 
» commanded and enforced a profound and uni- 
» versal sympathy , by -proving that all mankind^ 
» the troubled^ and the untroubled, the lofty 
» and the low , the strongest and the frailest^ 
» are linked togetlier by die bonds of a com- 
» mon but inscrutable nature. » — It is said 
that a crime will out. » — Every one is eased by 
the confession even of guilt ! Both concealment 
and disguise are always painful. But when one 
feels a consciousness that one's sentiments and 
thoughts , though peculiar , are noble or pa- 
thetic or beautiful , how much more strong 
is the incitement to communicate them! — - 

AVe feel a complacence from having brought 
our most internal and secret emotions to the 
test of other men's judgments ! — The shyness 
and sensitiveness of eenius often forbids it to 
do so face to face : — but fortitude returns in 
the closet ; aru:l it dan be content to give the pic- 
ture to the public through the medium of 
the pen. 



262 GNOMICA. CH. CVIII. 

If we learn that a Poet, who m his writings 
affects to describe vivid impressions and strong 
emotions, does not in reaUty shew that he is 
more forcibly struck or more powerfully moved 
than the generality of mankind , we lose much 
of the interest we should otherwise have in 
his compositions: the illusion of reality is lost! — 

In the life of a Poet, therefore, it is the 
relation of these traits of characters , about 
which we are inquisitive ! — 

If we find that an author has mingled among 
mankind in the ordinary ^^ay; has accustomed 
himself to ordinary occupations ; and seems to 
have had only ordinary and vulgar feelings, we 
lose or diminish our belief of his genius. 

To suppose that a man can imagine strong 
feelings attached to an invented character , and 
yet not have them associated with the images 
of his own actual experience , appears to the 
eye of reason an inconsistencey and absurdity. 

To give a narration of what goes beyond 
the surface of life is perhaps difficult. It re- 
quires acute observation to discover ; and 
frankness and courage to relate. When an 
author tells of himself, not what he is , but 
Avhat he Avishes to seem to he , he furnishes 
no materials to the philosophy of the human 
mind: when he speaks of what is, he supplies 
facts ; his opinion may easily be mistaken as 



GNOMICA. CII. CVIII. 263 

to what it is desirable to be ! — If he is sin- 
cere, and gives an unvarnished story, he need 
not be afraid: for the movements of the human 
heart are uniform ; and there are numerous 
points in which nature acts on a common 
principle , in all ! — 

cc But many poets of great imagination , and 
)) invention » ( it may be said ) « have left no 
» records of strong personal emotions ! » — 
This may be because they may not have ac- 
customed themselves to embody in language 
and preserve by the pen that part of their mental 
workings ! — It could not have happened that 
they were free from such mental workings. — 

But it may be asked if these emotions are 
desirable, or subjects of boast ? — And if tran- 
quility and self-possession be not a much 
better gift ? For those who are destined to go 
thro' life as passive and negative characters 
it may be : not for those Avho are called to act 
a part of dominion and preeminence. 

The uniform consent of mankind has con- 
ferred admiration on those who feel vividly , 
and think forcibly ! — 

But they must think without extravagance 
or exaggeration : for these are not real genius. 
They are the false strainings after effects, which 
spring from weakness. — 



264 GNOMICA. CH. CIX. 

CHAPTER CIX. 

Progi^ess of Poetry. 

5 ISov. 1823. 

Gray in his celebrated Ode , The Progress 
of Poesy , traces this progress <.^from Greece to 
Italy, and from Italy to England. y) He adds in 
a Note , that « Chaucer was not unacquainted 
with the writings of Dante or of Petrarch. The 
Earl of Surrey and Sir Thomas Wjatt had 
travelled in Italy , and formed their taste there: 
Spenser imitated the Italian writers : Milton im- 
proved on them : but this school expired soon 
after the Restoration ; and a new one arose , 
on the French model, which has subsisted ever 
since. » 

This is true: but it is so brief, as to omit 
some necessary subdivisions. Milton did not fol- 
low the same department of the Italian school 
as Spenser , who followed Ariosto while Milton 
followed Dante. 

At the same time the minor English Poets of 
the first half of the seventeenth century , such 
as Carew , Herrick , Lovelace , Stanley , followed 
the school of minor Italian poets , who had 
endeavoured, however imperfectly, to form them- 
selves on the school of Petrarch. 

These mixed the materials of true poetry 



GlYOMICA.. CH. ex. 265 

with metaphysical conceits; and thus alterna- 
tely produced passages of h!ght and darkness. 
Such conceits were occasional in Petrarch : they 
were the essence of the ingredients most songht 
and valued by his successors. And thus it was 
that many supposed n^^als of Petrarch were 
subsequently raised among his countrymen , 
whom weak critics endeavoured to persuade 
the Public for a little while to have even ex- 
celled him. This has , indeed , been the case 
in all ages of literature. When a gTeat Genius 
appears , and attracts the attention of his coun- 
try 5 imitators copy faults ; and not merits. 



CHAPTER ex. 

Poetj'j , not an art of Kvords. 

11 Oct. 1 823. 

Fashion has changed the Art of Poetry into 
an Ai^t of wonder-making words : and the mul- 
titude is so pleased with this change , that it 
is furious against whoever impugns it. 

But Poetry is the Art , which animates the 
past or absent events of human Beings with 
Ufe ; invests them with interesting circumstan- 
ces ; or assuming the facts as known , describes 
the feelings or imaginings suited to tbem in 
metrical language adapted to the /jre. 

34 



266 GNOMICA. CH. ex. 

Such has been the natural origin of the Epic ; 
and such , of the Ode , or Song. As in ad- 
vancing hterature these compositions became 
more technical , the primary ingredients and 
objects became more and more eclipsed by the 
substitudes and accessaries , till at length the 
substance and matter was forgotten ; and all 
merit was deemed to depend on the language; 
that is , on the glitter or surprise of the dress. 

One word too much , one word of cum- 
bersome cloatliing , is a detraction from genius , 
or from the object of true poetry. All illustration 
which outshines that which is intended to be 
illustrated , withdraws the attention from that 
on which it is the object to fix it. 

Tiiere is a transparent eloquence arising from 
force and beauty of tiiought , of wiiich tjie least 
artifice , the least mark of study or labour , 
destroys the spell. Whatever is recondite there- 
fore, is repugnant to the cliarm of tjis trans- 
parent eloquence. The effect of life , of present 
imagery, is instantaneous impression : not that 
which is evoked by slow operations of the intellect. 
Tales are the native subjects of poetry : these do 
not shut out its more spiritual parts; but give, on 
the contrary , the best opportunities for the 
display of them. Where the imaginative pre- 
sence of objects by raising strong emotion gives 
an accompanying depth of colour to tiie diction 



GNOMICA. CH. CXI. 267 

in which they are related , a style rich and 
glowing is produced naturally , and without 
effort. 

But all the arts , by which this style is at- 
tempted to be imitated , produce for the most 
part empty and unaffecting sounds. No imi- 
tator knows where to be rich , and where 
to be plain : the natural and unborrowed 
feeling can alone teach it : and this can only 
be inspired by the vivacity of intellectual vision 
which results from an innate force of imagi- 
native power. Gaudy language is poetry only 
to the eye , and ear ; and not to the mind , 
or heart. It neither enlightens the understanding; 
nor awakens sympathy. 

Wherever a Poet describes what is actually 
present^ the poetry can consist only in the ex- 
pression; — the subject matter is not an ima- 
gination , but a reality ; and therefore not a 
creation. 



CHAPTER CXI. 

Analysis of the faculties of poetical genius, 

3o Oct. 1823. 

I . If the organs of Sense are clear , the human 
perception of outward objects is proportionally 
lively. 



268 GNOMICA. CH. LXI. 

2. If the emotion of pleasure or pain from 
the perception is strong , there is sensibility 
of heart. 

3. If the mind observes , reflects , and reasons 
justly upon the subject , there is understanding. 

4. If after the outward object is removed , 
the impression of it still remains before the 
mind's eve as lively as when the object was 
actually present , there is fancy. 

5. If that impression continues long the same, 
when an interval of time has elapsed since the 
removal of the outward object, or can be re- 
called exactly in the same state, there is memory. 

6. If the images of fancy , which represent 
the forms of outward impressions , can be com- 
bined by the mind so as to create new forms 
by new arrangement of parts ^ drawn from dif- 
ferent images , and yet preserve a probability 
aud union of character, there is Imagination. 

7. If a power of language exists sufficient 
to express adequately these images such as they 
appear to the eye of such a mind , there is 
literary genius. 

8. If the images are grand, tender, or beau- 
tiful , tliej are of a poetical character. 

9. If the adequate language which presents 
itself for images of any one of these qualities, 
associated with these operations of the mind or 
heart, is thrown into metrical arrangement, the 
person so qualified is a poet. 



GNOMICA. CH. CXI. 269 

If all these qualities then are separately and' 
distinctly admitted to be possessed by an author, 
can anr one deny that he is entitled to the 
credit of possessing a poetical genius? Perhaps 
it Will be urged , that they mav be all pos- 
sessed , } et all in too faint a degree to pro- 
duce more than mediocritj ; — and that then 
the are of no value, — because we know 
fiOin Horace's authority what it is 

Mediocribus esse poetis. 

It can scarcel/, however, be admitted that an 
assemblage of such qualities will not go be) ond 
mediocrity : the cooperation will produce a gene- 
ral strength ; the strong will aid the weak , if 
some of the qualities should be weakly pos- 
sessed. To suppose them all possessed , yet all 
' faint, and all in an equal degree of faintness, 
is too improbable a supposition. It is indeed 
to den'/, what has been already required to be 
conceded as a datum. 

But it is worthy of remark , that Avhile the 
credit of such poetical genius has been spa- 
riiiglv" and hesitatingly allowed to persons pos- 
sessed of ail these qualities , it has been pro- 
fusely lavished on many who possessed only 
one or two of the most prominent of these quali- 
ties : — such as fancy , or imagination ; — without 
sensibility of heart , force of understanding , 



270 GWOMICA. CH. CXII. 

taste, judgment, or command of just, and po- 
lished, or metrical language. 

This arises from the gross perceptions and 
bad taste of the multitude, who prefer what is 
striking and exaggerated to the grace , polish , 
harmony , and perfection , which result from 
just proportions. 



CHAPTER CXII. 

Pursuits of Genius as -virtuous and justifiable , as those of 
more active life. 

8 l^Qv. 1823. 

If all our life is to consist of active duties; 
if it be not the permitted destiny of some of us to 
while away our stay here in innocent amuse- 
ments , what multitudes are wandering in wrong 
paths! — To some privileged Beings it seems 
allotted to seek to enjoy those properties of 
our existence, which are gratified by the gran- 
deur and beauty of the Creation around us. 
It is not necessary that all mankind should 
enter into a conflict of interests , and pursue 
the path either of ambition , or private enrich- 
ment. 

There are many , on whom Nature has im- 
planted the intrinsic love of magnificence, pro- 



GIVOMICA. CH. CXII. 271 

portion , delicacy , harmony , and tenderness , 
independent of ulterior ends ; without reference 
to usefulness , and antecedent to the graduated 
dictates of reason. The indulgence, improve- 
ment , and disciplined augmentation of this 
love, may be a due fulfilment of part of our 
earthly destination. A sensibility to the scenery 
of inanimate Nature , enlivened by that which 
is animate, is itself a virtue. It cannot be ques- 
tioned that its exercise purifies , refines , and 
warms the heart. 

I never cease to admire the following ex- 
quisite passage of Campbell , in his critique on 
Beatties poetry. 

« It is the solitary growth of the genius of 
Edwin » , ( the Minstrel , ) cf and his isolated 
and mystic abstraction from mankind , that fix 
our attention on the romantic features of his 
genius. — Instead of mingling with the troubles 
which deface creation , he only existed to make 
his thoughts the mirror of its beauty and mag- 
nificence. » 

Whatever enlightens our minds, and teaches 
us a proper estimate of tlaC possessions and 
pursuits of the world , is at once a source of 
present complacence , and a guide to the future. 
Error , doubt , confusion of tliought , are all 
painful at tae moment , and mischievous in their 
effects. Tiiere are thousands of unnecessary 



272 GNOMICA. CH. CXIl. 

perplexities, anxieties, and regrets, which recti- 
tude of intellect and clearness of reflection are 
capable of throwing aside. TLat , v* iiich does 
not confine happiness to external circumstances, 
but places it in the Mind , is most consolatory 
to the varied outward conditions of Humanit "^j 
of which it often happens that no personal 
exertions or virtues can alter tiie course and 
destiny. — 

It is quite impossible that a view of things, 
which limits happiness to riches , and rank , 
and worldly success, can be true ; — because 
it would make the dispensations of Providence 
unequal and unjust; inasmuch as they would 
be partial and confined to a few persons. 

He , who cultivates and enjoys pure , refined, 
and disinterested pleasures himself, and has 
the talent and exertion to elicit and encourage 
them in others , is a public benefactor. If some 
are born to act , many more are born to 
endure ; ■ — and oblivious antidotes to care , 
sorrow , and pain , are inestimable. 

The faculties, which provide for the necessi- 
ties of mankind, which are fitted to the com- 
mon business of life , are coarse , and hard. 
Nice and highly-constituted powers feel an im- 
patience and revolt at such employment ; as 
sharp-edged instruments are turned by a block 
of wood. What are deemed genius and talents 



GXOMICA. CH. CXIIT. 273 

therefore would be Avealxiiesses , if t' e proof of 
the real existence of t';ese qualities v> ere to 
depend on worldly skill and success. 



CHAPTER CXIIT. 

JVritings of borrowers useless , cumbersome , and due to 
the Jire. 

8 xTop/. 1823. 

As in our late sta^e of literature, t;,e occn- 
pation of mercenarv authorship has greatly in- 
creased , the number c: niec'ianical writers 
has unproportionally augmented be} ond t'iOse 
possessed of original powers. Many reasons may- 
be assigned for t!;is : ^\hen men ^^ ork for lire, 
their business is to fill tlie greatest space in t'.e 
shortest time : and memory can perform t as 
service muc;i more raoidlv than orisfinal tliinkina;'; 
while what is tiius produced , is probablv more 
palatable to the mass of readers. Vv^'iat is trite, 
is easy of conception : tlie reader's understan- 
ding and prejudices are prepared for it : its 
verv' dilution in the act of transfer perhaps 
makes it more pleasant to the \^ eak intellects, 
whicii would feel a distaste to it in its native 
vigour. 

But the tendency wliich it has to discourare 
genius and leading talent, b/ causing them to 

35 



274 GNOMICA. CH. CXIII. 

be confounded with comparatively mean gifts 
and mean acquirements , which neither obtain 
nor deserve the respect and admiration neces- 
sary to excite and nourish the exhausting fires 
of high capacity and due effort , operates to 
deteriorate from year to year the force and 
general character of the hterature of the coun- 
try where it prevails. Sincerity is sacrificed to 
mere plausible pretensions ; and the press be- 
comes the vehicle of every sort of sophistry 
and emptiness ; and is mainly occupied as the 
instrument of self-interest, intrigue, and faction; 
and of deluding the public mind. 

When men wrote for fame, and not for money, 
they generally wrote from innate capacity ; and 
had neither the same interest , nor the same 
propensity to disguise. 

It were well if all the repetitions , and re- 
petitions of repetitions , with which the ware- 
houses of printers and booksellers groan , were 
swept into the consuming fire , — even if they 
were accurate : But they are often not only 
copies, but inaccurate and bhnidering copies. 

There are innumerable persons, who, adding 
memory to a quick conception and command 
of language, can borrow and repeat what others 
draw from the sources of their own intellect: 
but having nothing infixed so as to become a 
part of themselves , they have no convictions ; 



Gnomic A. ch. cxiv. 275 

— and without the author's convictions what 
guard have we against his sophistries ? or his 
repetitions of sophistries? 

To make an original writer , it is not ne- 
cessary that his opinions should never have been 
expressed by others : but it is necessary that 
he should not have borroived them from others: 
they must be the result of the workings of his 
own mind applied to materials collected by 
himself. In such concurrence with others, is 
the test of truth ; but not of derivation. 

Still if what is said , is said badly and im- 
perfectly when others have said it well , the 
author affords a proof of his inferiority , though 
not of being a borrower. 

Penetrating and experienced critics know in 
a moment what is original by its very manner; 

— by its simplicity ; — its clearness ; — its 
freshness ; — its mastery over the subject. 



CHAPTER CXIV. 

Originality. 

lo ISov. 182,3. 

What was been said in the last Chapter about 
originality may require a little more elucidation. 
The common meaning , which the Multitude affix 
to the word , is certainly the production of 



276 GNOMIC A. CH. CXIV. 

something which has Dot ])een said before ; — 
somelhiijg positively iiav. If this were the true 
meaning, it would exclude at least nine tenths 
of the finest passages of Shakespeare from the 
character of originality ; — of which one grand 
merit is their marvelous consent with the uni- 
versal experience of mankind. 

Shakespeare's ori^inaliij consists in deriving 
his thoughts, sentiments, and imagery, from 
the sources of his own intellect , bosom , and 
fancy; and his merit, in conceiving them with 
more force , and expressing them with more 
power and beauty , than others. If the same 
impressions and convictions had not occurred 
to otiiers , the cliances are that the major part 
of them would not have been just. 

Pope says , 
a True ivit is nature to advantage dress' cl ; 
If hat oft ivas thought, but ne'er so well expressed; 
Something , whose truth convinced at sight eve find, 
That gives us back the image of our mind. » 

Though this is not a definition of wit , as 
we now use that word, it is a definition of 
good writing ; and of what is the fruit of ori- 
ginal genius. There is, it must be admitted, 
some httle imperfection in wording it, because 
it is open to the interpretation that the whole 
merit lies in the expression , and that it would 
admit a trite thought , borrowed from others. 



GNOMICA. CH. CXIV. 277 

But this was not Pope's meaning. Pope, I doubt 
not , intended to convey a position much more 
conformable to the observation contained in a 
celebrated passage of Johnson at the end of 
his Life of Gray, 

cc The Churchyard, (says Johnson) abounds 
with images ivhich find a mirror in every mind^ 
and with sentiments to which every bosom re- 
turns an echo. The four stanzas beguining , c<Yet 
e'en these bones , )> are to me original : I have 
never seen the notions in any other place ; yet 
he that reads them here persuades himself that 
he has always felt them. » 

It is true that Johnson is here speaking of 
an originality , in which there is novelty. Yet 
Avhen the thought is just , the reader at least 
persuades himself \\12X he has thought the same 
before, but could not express it. One province 
of genius then is to be able to bring out the 
more imperfect , more dim , and more buried 
stores of weaker minds, by the faculty of clearer 
and stronger conception , and more adequate 
and impressive language. This may be done 
by those who conceive and express, what genius 
has conceived and expressed before ; — but 
never can be done by borrowers ; for the bor- 
rower is himself the patient , not the agent. 

As it is of the essence of a genuine produc- 
tion of genius , that it should find a mirror 



278 GNOMIC A. Cll. CXIV. 

in other minds , so the eager pursuit of posi- 
tive novelty is always on the verge of offen- 
ding against this requisite. 

An easy, trifling, thought cannot claim merit 
merely because it is not derivative. The thought 
must have some w^eight; some depth; and must 
convey some light. Where, though original, it 
is not new , but has been expressed by other 
authors, it must be such, as, being exposed 
to difference of acceptation among inferior un- 
derstandings, requires the sanction of the con- 
currence of those which are most able. 

It seems then that if some critics, when they 
speak of originality , mean what has been 
neither expressed , nor thought before; others, 
though thought , not expressed ; others again , 
though both thought and expressed , not so well 
expressed ; they are all too narrow in the limits 
they fix to the use of this Vv^ord, when applied 
to the productions of literary genius. 

Suppose we should meet in the pages of 
Cowley , Addison, or Johnson , some interesting 
moral opinion exactly concurrent with one al- 
ready to be found in Bacon s Essays : yet 
bearing the clear marks from internal evidence, 
from the train of thought , the form of words, 
the raciness , the force , that it took its origin 
from the native workings of the author's own 
mind, is the value or merit of such an opinion 



GINOBIICA. CH. CXIV. 279 

destroyed, or its claim to originality extinguish- 
ed , because something similar had already 
been given by Bacon , — even admitting that 
the later writer has reached no superiority of 
expression over Bacon ? 

Johnson says , of the morality of Graj's 
« Ode on Springs that though (k natural , it is 
too stale, » If this be true , it is objectionable: 
what is stale y ought not to be repeated, even 
though it spring from the unprompted move- 
ments of the author,'s own bosom. But I think 
that it is not true : at least an extraordinary 
beauty of expression redeems it from this stigma: 
the train of thought is select and lucid : and 
the plaintive tone of breathing senthnent is ex- 
quisitely touching. The morality therefore, in 
the attitudes in which it is placed , in the 
scenery with which it is associated , and in the 
mellow hues which are thrown upon it , is not 
stale. 

No poet has suffered under the hands of criti- 
cism from wrong and narrow notions of what con- 
stitutes originality y more than Gray. Campbell (^) 
seems in part, though not entirely, to agree with 
the opinion which I entertain on this point 
regarding him. Gray reversed the common prac- 
tice of borrowers. They generally attempt to 

(*) Specimens, vol. yi. p. 190, 



280 GiyOMICA. CH. CXV. 

disguise the theft of thought by putting it in 
a new dress of language ; in which however 
the effort at variation is almost always more 
laboured than successful. It strikes me , that 
Gray's thoughts are, for the most p:iri, his ocv7i; 
but his excessive anxiety to enrich and finish, 
and add art to nature, prompts him, more often 
than is quite desirable , to resort to the finest 
gems of his predecessors to adorn his own bril- 
liant style with a « dazzling excess of light. » 
He , who boiTOWs from poverty , never unites : 
he disjoins , and combines with ecpial infelicity. 
He mistakes dislocation, and new and unsuited 
position, for novelty of creation: he takes to 
pieces; but cannot reunite so as to give life 
and nature. 



CHAPTER CXV. 

Critique on two of Gray's Odes. 

i3 i\W. x823. 

An allegorical Image is a species of Fiction : 
it is a personification , an embodiment of an 
abstract quality. Grays Ode on Eton College is 
made up of these images. But -poetic Fiction 
means also Invention : and Invention must be 
original: and is one of these figures of Gray 



GIVOMICA. CII. cxv. 281 

original? — I think not : all their attributes 
consist of obvious and known epithets. — It is 
then in the grouping and choice, — in the com- 
bination, — that the Invention consists. — It 
is a choice , which could only be dictated by 
the hght of Fancy , kindled and augmented 
by emotion. Fancy alone would not have pre- 
sented such extensive and contrasted views : 
for reality exhibits no such images in combi- 
nation. Gray therefore brought before him this 
rich and affecting picture by the force of the 
creative faculties of his mind : the picture, such 
as he presents, was beyond what mere obser- 
vation and experience could supply : or if they 
could supply , could only supply in detached 
views, — separatedi^ time and place ; and not 
grouped together. It was an act therefore of 
powerful Imagination , or Fiction , to shew them 
in union, contrasting and relieving each other. 
There is something defective in the essence, 
the first conception, of the (^^ Progress of Poesy, y> 

— The « Lyre » ought to have been a person, 

— a Muse ; — an active, not a passive, object. — 
The c( Progj^ess yy depends, not on the Lyre itself, 
but on the characters of the persons thro' whose 
hands it passes ; and this destroys all unify ; 
for though a single object is addressed , and 
is intended to form the topic of consideration 
and celebration , all the interest and all the 

36 



282 GNOMICA. CH. CXV. 

spring of action depends neither on that ob- 
ject , nor on any one other object ; but on a 
succession of extraneous objects unconnected 
with each other. It is not the character of the 
Lyre , from which the effects are deduced ; - — 
but the character of those a>ho act upon it. — 

It may be said that an inherent character in 
the Lyre is implied, without which the actors 
could not draw such effects from it: but this 
is a gratuitous assumption : all the effects de- 
duced spring from the characters of the actors. 

!No such fault is to be found in Collins's, 
Ode to the Passions. There the actors , not the 
Lyre, are the proposed subjects of the Poem. 

Perhaps it will be replied , that Collins has 
in view to relate the eff^s of the Passions on 
the Lyre: and Gi^aj, the effects on third per- 
sons , of what is produced by the Lyre ; — so 
that the Lyre is itself the actor in the latter 
case, tho' only deri^^atively. But a secondary 
agent ought not to have been preferred to a 
moving principal : and Gray himself felt the 
inadequacy of the -passive instrument, when in 
the 2.^ and 3.^ stanza of the i.^ Ternary, he 
himself changed the « L^re » into a « Muse. » 



*^V^*'VV»'VW%*%^'V-W^ 



GNOMICA. CH. CXVI. 283 

CHAPTER CXYL 

Metaphysical Poetry. 

1 3 ISov. 1S23. 

English Poetry has never entirely recovered 
from its metaphysical habits. From the prin- 
ciple of representing matter thro' its spiritual 
reflections, it grew to deal exclusively in spiri- 
tual representations. Material imagery was only 
used as illustrative of spirit ; and not as a 
principal. 

Hence came the poetry of language, and not 
of matter. — Tiie thought was the fruit of the 
understanding : — the fancy and imagination 
were in the dress. — Labour, industry, disci- 
pline > learning , and art , now superseded ge- 
nius ; and no poet relied on the gifts of nature , 
and the unsought energies of the mind. 

Fiction in its simple and obvious meaning 
began to be forgot ; and imagination , Avhich 
was taken to be synonymous, was substituted 
as an accessary ; and not as a principal. — 

A new order of Poets therefore was now called 
forth ; and there was a requisition for a different 
class of faculties. 

I am inclined, however, to believe, that strong 
natural genius acts in defiance of all artificial 
restraints and temporary fashions. 



284 GNOMICA. CH. CXVII. 

CHAPTER CXV 11. 

True nature of Poetry. 

Nothing tends so certainly and clearly to a 
distinct and uniform understanding of the true 
nature of Poetry , as a constant regard to the 
true and strict meaning of the word by Avhich 
it is denominated, — 

UoiTja-ig is creation. I think this word implies 
a good deal more than a mere embodiment, 
in rhythmical language, of images impressed on 
the fancy from external objects. — It means 
Imagination : viz. a combination made Avithin 
the Author's own mind , by the activity and 
force of his own faculties: — and it is this,- 
which gives it the character of invention , or 
cj^eation. 

This is also the proper and strict sense of 
Fiction : but Fiction in a looser sense may be, 
( or rather is , ) applied to the productions of 
Fancy : tho' images, which already exist in the 
Fancy , cannot quite accurately be said to be 
feigned , or created. 

However, as it is scarcely possible for an 
image to be received into the fancy, without 
the mind adding something to it , or subtrac- 
ting something from it , the stores of fancy are 



GNOMICA. CH. CXVII. 285 

always mingled , more or less , with the fruits 
of Imagination : and therefore every production 
of fancy , is more or less a fiction , or crea- 
tion. 

But the degree of Fiction is in proportion to 
the degree of the prevalence of Imagination , 
or Invention: and by this standard must the 
poetical character of a composition be rated. 

The simple junction of the approximating and 
consentaneous materials of pure fancy, is but a 
weak effort of imagination. — Rich Fiction is 
complex in its combinations : to bring together 
ingredients remote in their native position, and 
varied and dislinci; in their qualit}^, is ihe test 
of the creative power. To join matter and spirit, 
image and sentiment ; to associate the visible 
with the ideal ; — to spiritualise matter, and 
embody spirit ; — hie labor , hoc opus est ! 
This is Fiction; — this is to create new forms, 
and cast into them new minds ! This is to in- 
vent a Jieiv « Eloisa, » — and a new « Bard, » 
according to the Poet's own visionary and fiery 
notions ! — 

All minor poets introduce minor degrees of 
this sort of fiction, or invention: — but mere 
versifiers have none of it. — 

Yet tho' mind and spirit must be greatly 
prevalent in all high invention, there can be 
no poetical creation without a mixture of matter 



286 GNOMICA. CH. CXVIII. 

or imagery: therefore metaphysical subjects can 
never be poetical , except in the language, dress, 
and illustrations: and that can never be perfect 
poetry , where the poetry lies only in the ac^ 
cessary ; and not in the principal. — 



CHAPTER CXVIII. 

^ good Fable of primary necessity to constitute primary 
poetry. 

1 5 iVoi^. 1823. 

The highest class of Poetry cannot be reached , 
where there is not a Fable : and therefore short 
poems, including Odes , seem almost, if not en- 
tirely , excluded from the highest class. I say 
almost y because it is possible, ( tliougb barely 
possible , ) to compress a Fable within the limits 
of an Ode, 

But a good Fable , well designed , will not 
do alone , unless tljere be also powerful execu- 
tion ; — unless the parts be richly and happily 
filled up. On the contrary , an ill design may 
sometimes be rendered attractive by a felicitous 
finish of the details. 

Tiiere is , perhaps , but one Fable in the 
world , which is equally grand and symmetrous 
in the design, and perfect in the execution: 



GNOMICA. CH. CXIX. 287 

and that is Milton's Paradise Lost. It results 
from this , tliat the author is entitled to stand 
at the head of all human Poets. 

He is not fitted to be popular : — but his 
inadaptation to popularity arises from his ex- 
cellence. How is it possible that any thing so 
exalted, so profound, so eti serial , in winch 
Nature and Art have combined to do tiieir ut- 
most, should be within the taste, or the reach, 
of vulgar conceptions? 



CHAPTER CXIX. 

Edward Phillips's Opinion of the Fable proper for an 
Heroic Poem. 

i5 Koi'. 1823. 

Edward Philips , the nephew of Milton , in 
the admirable Preface to his Theatrum Poetarumy 
1675, 12.° (1) expresses himself thus on the 
subject of the choice and conduct of the Fiction 
proper to constitute an Heroic Poem. It seems 
to me to designate so many material points of 
poetical creation, in so just and at the same 

(M ^ Selection from this scarce book, containing Phil- 
lips's Characters of the English Poets , till the death of 
Q. Elizabeth, (with many additions,) was reprinted by 
the present Author in 1800. 8.° 



288 GNOMIC A. CH. CXIX. 

time so brief, yet so comprehensive, a manner, 
that it would be well , if our modern poets 
and modern critics could always keep it in 
mind. 

iilt is not ,y> says he, «« mere historical re- 
lation , spiced over with a little slight fiction , 
noix^ and a Personated Virtue or Vice rising out 
of the ground , and uttering a speech , ivhich 
makes a Heroic Poem : but it must be rather a 
brief ^ obscure , or remote tradition ; — but of 
some remarkable piece of story , — in which the 
Poet hath an ample field to enlarge by feigning 
of probable circumstances , in which , and in 
proper Allegoij , Invention, (the well-manage- 
ment whereof is indeed no other than decorum , ) 
principally consisteth ; and wherein there is a 
kind of tj'uth ^ even in the midst of Fiction, For 
whatever is pertinently said bj way of A lie gory j. 
is morally though not historically true ; and 
circumstances , the more they have of verisi- 
mility , the more they keep up the reputation 
of the Poet , whose business it is to deliver 
feigned things as like to truth as may be ; that 
is to say , not too much exceeding apprehension, 
or the belief of what is possible , or likely ; or 
positively contradictory to the truth of history ! » 

By Phillips's standard therefore, (and tiiismust 
be taken to have been Milton's standard,) the 
monstrous and extravagant must be excluded 



GKOMICA.. Cfi CXIX. 289 

from all poetic fiction which aspires to excel- 
lence. Verisimility is an essential quality. 

We do not wonder that tl^e Mob, when tliey 
seek to have their imaginations gratified, re- 
quire violent and unnatural incitements. To be 
moved by proportion ^ simplicity , delicacy , 
and touches of exquisite fineness, requires native 
sensibility improved and heightened by long 
cultivation and comparison. No rude , unedu- 
cated , and inexperienced eye admires tlie beau- 
tiful composition and mellow tints of the schools 
of antient Painters , the Raffaels , Corregios , 
Guidos , etc. , half so much as a modern daub , 
glaring with new and unchaste colours , and 
outraging all the symmetry and harmony of 
nature. <f^He that forsakes the probable, ^^ says 
Johnson , « may ahvajs find the inarvellous. » 

But understanding marvellous , as Johnson 
here understands it , in an invidious and re- 
prehensible sense, what appears marvellous in 
one age is not, (at least in tlie same degree,) 
marvellous in another. Many tilings which ap- 
pear objectionably marvellous in the Fairy 
Queen, might not appear so in Queen Eliza- 
beth's reign. But a poet, who builds on opi- 
nions of temporary prevalence , must take tlic 
consequence , and not complain if « lie plucks a 
deciduous laurel, ?> The poet , who aspires to 

37 



290 Gl>fOMlCA. CH. CXX. 

immortal fame , must build on opinions of uni- 
versal extent, and perpetual duration. 



CHAPTER CXX. 

The notice of what is great can seldom he new. 

19 T^iOif. 1823. 

Johnson in his criticism on Metaphysical poe^ 
try, in his Life of Coivley , says that a those 
writers who lay on the watch for novelty , could 
have little hope of greatness ; for great things 
cannot have escaped former observation. » 

The love of novelty is always the passion 
of false genius. It is the desire to excite atten- 
tion by undue means. A deep and forcible 
thinker may by extraordinary felicity produce 
what is at once just and new : but a rational 
hope can only be placed in arriving at a con- 
currence , (m. the midst of conflicting opinions,) 
with the thoughts and sentiments of the wisest 
heads and the most virtuous bosoms. 

There is however a great temptation to pur- 
sue novelty. The notice of the Public is seldom 
first gained but by novelty: though that notice 
will never be retained long , except where the 
novelty is founded in truth. 



GNOMICA. CH. CXXl. 291 



CHAPTER CXXL 

What is unborrofved , need not be positively new ; but 
must be neithei' stale , nor trijling. 

20 JSo^. 1823. 

Is it not sufficient to say things better than 
others have said them; — or to rise to a par 
with the eminent, without having borrowed 
from them ? — But what is the proof of not 
having borrowed ? Let it be left to the honest 
judgment of taste and quick perception ! The 
tests will make instantaneous impression; — 
and the impression will seldom err. 

Of what is trite or stale, the repetition can 
never have interest or use. But there are in- 
numerable opinions and sentiments , which , 
though expressed before, have been but rarely 
embodied in language; — and only by gifted 
authors : — these will bear to be enforced 
again ; and to have other recorded testimonies 
of consent to them. 

There are thousands , and thousands perhaps 
many times told, who cdin judge, for one who 
can originate. But he who judges with the best, 
is too apt to think himself superior to an ori- 
ginator of a subordinate class. 



292 Gr^-OiVllCA. CH. CXXII. 

CHAPTER CXXII. 

English Poets , who have written prose. 

20 J^oi^. 1823. 

The number of Poets , who have written 
PROSE , is very Umitecl. We have in England 
Spenser, Milton , Cowley , Habingdon , Dryden, 
Addison, Pope, Lyttelton , Johnson , Goldsmith, 
Thomas Warton , Beattie : — and here perhaps 
the list may end. 

But it is to the glory of poetry , that the 
best style of Prose in our language is to be 
found among these : for who will deny the 
palm of excellence, in the style of English prose, 
to Cowley, Dryden, and Addison? 

It is not improbable that the lively mind of 
poets , inasmuch as it gives more of the force 
of nature to the thoughts , entangles itself less 
in the technicalities of diction : for it is the 
labour of art which renders a style heavy and 
corrupt; and which falls into temporary fashions, 
that change with every succeeding generation. 

Superficial critics may suppose that a poet 
is likely to fall into ^i florid stj le. A florid style 
consists either of excessive ornament; or, or- 
nament in wrong places. (^) A true poetical mind 

( ^) The charge of Jloridness has therefore been most 
inappositely , falsely , and ignorantly , applied to Burke. 



GX03riCA. CH. cxxri. 293 

never does this : the eners^v- of its thousfhts is 
the security against this fault : it is vacancy , 
or wealLiiess , ^vhich seeks the disguise of over- 
ornament : real vigour, carried forward by the 
rapiditv of its o^vn motion, has not leisure to 
stop to seek it. Of men aspiring to be authors, 
he who thinks powerfully , will almost alwavs 
write powerfully ; and it can scarcely happen 
that one can write powerfully without a good 
style. An useful book may be Avritten illustra- 
tive of a particular subject , without great ta- 
lents ; and here the value of the matter may 
overcome the defects of style : but to develop 
and communicate adequately general truths, 
requires general abilities ; and these can scarcely 
exist without attaching to them a good style. 
Vv'hat is general and essential , can be se- 
parated from its concomitants ; and yet lose 
nothinsf of its force or use : but of how few 

o 

authors can the matter be thus dealt with I — 
The herd of writers produce only what derives 
its Avorth from its position and particular ap- 
plicability ! Their productions are like highly- 
"wrought plate , in which the quantity of ster- 
ling ore is small ; and of which the price has 

^Tlien his style became rich and fignratiye, it arose out of 
the subject; and flowed naturally, and almost necessarily, 
from the warmth of the thought. 



29^ GNOMICA. CH. CXXII. 

chiefly arisen from the workixianship appHed 
to the form and fashion ; a value not trans- 
mutable , but dependent exclusively on its 
existing shape. 

The number of classical compositions in the 
English language illustrative of Moral Philo- 
sophy , which have been able to survive the 
fashion of the day, and stand the test of Time, 
may be compressed into a very few volumes. This 
can only be accounted for by the assumption 
that such compositions require a degree of 
genius scarcely inferior to that of poetry. 

Let it be examined , what authors , ( with 
the exception of poets , ) furnish positions of 
general truth to be cited on such occasions ; 
and the accuracy of this remark will not be 
doubted. 

The reason of this it may not perhaps be sa 
difficult to penetrate. It is by the force of ima- 
gination, that the mind brings before it the 
extensive array of materials^ from which general 
truths can be deduced. 



Gnomica. cii. gxxiii. 295 

CHAPTER CXXIIT. 
Sonnet. 

1 8 Isov. 182.3. 

He, who remote from vulgar intercourse, 

Aye holds high converse with the holy Muse , 
And seeks to soothe his sight with Fancy's 

hues , 
His mind , uplifted by the enduring force 

Of her etherial counsel to the source, 

Where from the trembling lyre celestial crews 
Their harmony above the clouds diffuse, 
Is borne away beyond the discord hoarse 

Of earthly jars : — but if by chance his ear 
To that rude dissonance approach too near. 
Its chords , ( refined to heavenly , ) at the roar 

Shrink ; and are senseltss , all aghast with fear : 
And now, the rapture of existence o'er. 
No voice but that of murmurs can he hear ! 



CHAPTER C X X I y. 

Beauties of Shahespeare, 

20 i\W. 1828. 

The Editor of the Beauties of Shakespeare , 
( an Editor , whose unfortunate fate is well- 



296 GJVOMICA. CH. CXXIV. 

known, (1) but who shewed great taste in that 
Collection,) says justly in his Preface (i. there is 
scarcely a topic common with other writers on 
which he has not excelled them all : there aie 
many noblj peculiar to himself, where he shines 
unrivalled, and like the eagle , proper est emblem 
of his daring genius , soars bejond the com- 
mon reach, and gazes undazzled on the Sun, » — 

I cite this passage , because it seems to me 
to agree with the positions I have laid down 
in the preceding Chapters: for here Shakes- 
peare's excellence is not placed merely on 
novelty and peculiarity , but in having ex- 
pressed what had been already said , better 
than it had been said before. 

But so it is , that this inspired poet has an 
indefinable charm , even when what he says is 
sufficiently obvious , and is not expressed with 
any peculiarity of elegance or force. To make 
myself understood , I will cite an instance. 

On Fortune. 
(i If ill Fortune never come with both hands full , 
But write her fair words still in foulest letters ? 
She either gives a stomach , and no food ; — 
Such are the poor , in health; — or else a feast y 
And takes away the stomach; — such are the rich, 
That have abundance , and enjoy it not, » (^) 

(1) D.^ Dodd. 

(2) Second Part of K. Hen. iv. 



GWOMTCA. CH. CXXIV. 297 

I know not whence this inysterions charm 
arises ; unless it be from the raciness of the 
style, as if the remark sprung from individual 
impression , and immediate sensation. 

I will add another , because it has been 
copied by a modern poet , in a passage which 
is in every one's mouth , as if it was peculiar 
to the last. 

^ '■ icSo it falls out ^ 

That what we have , we prize not to the worth , 
Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost , 
Why, then we rack the value , then we find 
The virtue, that possession would not show us ^ 
Whiles it was ows. » (^) 

Cowper in his Task says , 

« ISot to know a treasure'' s worthy 

Till time has stolen away the slighted good ^ 
Is cause of half the misery we feel. » 

The following highly - poetical and almost 
unrivalled passage is of a different kind ; and 
shews in what school Milton, Gray, and Collins 
studied their language. 

Fairies and Magic. 
« Ye elves of hills , brooks , standing lakes , and 

groves ; 
And ye , tliat on the sands with printless foot 

{}) Much Ado about Nothing* 

38 



298 feNOMtcA. CH. cxnv. 

Do chase the ebbing Neptune , dijid do fly him 
When he comes back;jou demi-puppels , that 
By moon-shine do the green-sour ringlets make , 
Whereof the ewe not bites; and you, whose pastime 
Is to make midnight-m.ushrooms ; that rejoice 
To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid 
(Weak masters though you be,) I have bediinmd 
The noontide sun , calVd forth the mutinous winds^ 
And twixt the green-sea and the azured vault 
Set roaring war : to the dread rattling thunder 
Have I given fire , and rifted Jove's stout oak 
With his own bolt: the strong-based promontory 
Have I made shake ; and by the spurs plucked up 
The pine and cedar ; graves at my command 
Have waked their sleepers; oped, and let them forth 
By my so potent art, » (^) 

In the fifth and sixth Hnes of this passage 
we are reminded of a passage of Cowley; who 
yet has made an original , quite different , and 
felicitous application of the image. Speaking of 
poetical pursuits, that new and profound thinker 
says with inimitable beauty > 

« Where once such Fairies dance , no grass doth 

ever grow. » 

(1) Twelfth Night. C?^-^ Ji/i-K Ai-aX^ ) 



GNOMICA. CH. cxxv. 299 

CHAPTER CXXV. 

Notices of Collins y the Poet, 

21 Nou. 1823. 

Ill Gent. Mag. Oct. 182 3, in a a Reiaeiv of 
Observations on the architecture of Magdalen 
College , Oxford , » are a few words which con- 
tain a new notice of Collins , the poet. 

« //^e have passed many a delightful evening y* 
says the Reviewer , « among its Members » etc. 
« have eaten venison with cotemporaries o/'Collins 
the poet ; and learned from them that he was 
a pock-fretted man, with small keen black eyes; 
associated very little ; and was introduced into 
Magdalen by D,^ Payne, an uncle, whom he 
offended by refusing to pay attention to him ; 
and therefore left the University. » 

So little is known of CoUins's personal his- 
tory , that for three-and-forty years I have been 
in the habit of catching eagerly at every glimpse 
of him. In Gent. Mag. 1781, were a few original 
notices of him by one who remembered him , 
which I read at the time with deep interest and 
affliction ; and which have never since been 
effaced from my memory. Some years after- 
wards a few other notices appeared in another 
Magazine: and these, with what little has been 
said by Langhorne and Johnson , are , 1 believe^ 



SOO GNOMICA. CH. CXXV. 

the Slim of all that has been recorded of him. 
Manv remembrances of him must long have 
existed at Chichester, his bir'ih-place; and per- 
haps may still exist in tradition. Why are the 
inhabitants of that Citv so supine and insensible 
as to be silent on the subject ? D.'^ Payne is 
an uncle , of whom 1 have not heard before. 
Another uncle, whom Johnson calls Col. MartiUy 
is called Col. il/ar^//2 Bladen byD.'^ Joseph Warton, 
if I recollect right. (^) 

An enthusiastic admiration of Collins, which 
began in me in very boyhood, has in no de- 
gree decayed under the freezing effects of age. 
I never Avill believe any one a proper poet, 
■who is not a poet in his heart , as well as in 
his head : to whom Imagination is not the mi- 
Stress, rather than the casual and indifferent 
associate. 

The Reason may be able by great effort and 
long -continued exercise to subdue a strong 
Imagination ; — but it will at the same 
time subdue and extinguish the poetical power. 
Collins gave himself up to the inspirations of 
the Muse : his habits therefore were eccentric; 



(^) Collins's father was a hatter. Let not the obscurity 
of their station deprive those , -whose blood he inherited , 
of the notice to which the reflection of his genius entitles 
them ! 



GNOMiCA. cn. cxxv. 301 

and the fire blazed too strongly for the strength 
of the material part of his Being. 

Johnson in his character of this celebrated 
man , with whom he lived some years in the 
intimacy of affectionate friendship, has contrived 
to express great praise in such a manner , as 
to have the effect of depreciation. If we exa- 
mine what are the qualities which the Critic 
bestows on him , we shall find that he ascribes 
to him « vigorous faculties » , « extensive litera- 
ture ;y> (.<i pure morals ;y^ (.(-pious opinions ;y) a. wis- 
dom and virtue ;y) — and « occasional subliinitj 
and splendour , » in his productions. This is 
almost all , which the w^armest encomiasts of 
Colhns ascribe to him. 

Johnson sa'. s, that (ihe did not sufficiently 
cultivate sentiment : y> — he did not cultivate the 
expression of sentiment ; but his vivid and 
impassioned imagery was calculated to awaken 
sentiment in the readtcrs bosom ; though lie 
left it to raise itself by its own force. His poe- 
try would have been still richer, if he himself 
had cloathed it in lan^ruao'e. 

Collins's colour and combination of words 
is, for the most part , his own. This probably 
arose from the originality and vigour of his 
conceptions : he who derives the suggestion of 
his imager) from others , must derive it through 
the medmm of language: and he cannot after- 



302 GNOMICA. CH. CXXVI. 

wards separate the image from its dress: they are 
indissolubly identified in his mind. 

A factitious poet is no enthusiast: he performs 
his work as a task ; and not con amore : an 
highly-excited temperament would destroy the 
power to use his tools. What is done by art, 
is done coolly and deliberately : it arises from 
painful recollection, and gradual and laborious 
thought. But enthusiasm awakens the ideas with 
an instantaneous foixe, which calls up the words 
with them. 

In the diction of Collins, therefore, I do not 
recollect any patches of extraneous ornament. 

Poets may sometimes have merit of thought, 
who yet may be deficient in expression : but 
none can have excellence of expression, who 
are not at least equally excellent in thought. 



CHAPTER CXXVI. 

Milton little admired hy his colemporarles. 

2.6 IS'oi'. iSiS. 

There are a body of authors possessing strong 
influence over public opinion , Avho are for 
obvious reasons extremely anxious to establish 
the position , that popularity is the test of 
merit. They are therefore always on the alert 



GZN"OMICA. CH. CXXVI. 303 

to deny the commonly - received opinion , 
that MiLTOPf excited httle of the admiration or 
notice of his cotemporaries. But this denial on 
their part must surely be admitted to be vain 
and idle , when it is recollected that what they 
oppose is an historical fact: — not a mere 
matter of opinion. Campbell has very properly 
noticed , ( and indeed it had long ago been 
noticed,) that Lord Clarendon says of Cowley, 
that (c/ze had taken a flight aho<^e all men in 
■poetry » while the noble historian does not even 
name Miltoin-. If it be said that such an opinion 
may have arisen from the strong political pre- 
judices of this luminous recorder of the events 
and characters of his own age , a satisfactory 
reply may be made by an appeal to the author's 
unimpeached integrity and veracity; and the 
whole tenor of his copious pages, in which he is 
not in the habit of omitting those of a contrary 
party to him, whenever they have come under 
his notice , though he may express his strong dis- 
sent to their political principles and conduct. 

It ought to be recalled to mind , that Lord 
Clarendon had spent his youth among Poets 
and Literati ; and had a great ambition of their 
intimacy. Milton's early poems were published at 
a period, when this illustrious Chancellor's youth- 
ful mind was open to all the charms of Imagina- 
tion ; and before the dry and thorny paths of 



304 GNOMIC A» CH* cxxvr. 

Politics, in the midst of a furious Civil War, 
could have totally withdrawn his attention from 
the Muses. It is therefore demonstrative , that 
these compositions, so picturesque, so rich, so 
wild , so full of creative imaginings , so fresh 
from the very well-spring of poetry, neither met 
the great Lawyer's own taste; nor were obtruded 
on him by the taste of others. 

If bad poetry will not gain favour, where good 
poetry is to be found, how came Cowley's poems 
to meet with universal applause , and be in uni- 
versal demand , w^hen Milton was allowed to live 
little noticed , and consoled only by the calm 
consciousness of his own desert ? — I do not 
mean to depreciate Coivlej: he was an excellent 
man; of admirable faculties; of inimitable wit; 
of vast originality, depth, solidity, and recti- 
tude of thought ; of an heart of transparent frank- 
ness and purity ; and one of the most elegant , 
( if not the most elegant , ) prose - writers of 
our language : — but that poetry of his, which 
Lord Clarendon says, took a flight above all other 
of his time , is deficient in all the prime qualities 
of poetry. 

If then Lord Clarendon was so mistaken in 
taste, may there not be great men in our days, 
whose opinions in poetical composition may 
prove to have been equally worthless? — There 
is but one certain test , — the test of time ; and 



GNOMIC A. CH. CXXVI. 305 

a reference to the model of those works which 
have continued the favourites of successive agfes. 
Novelty may perhaps be pronounced to be an 
indispensible ingredient in the sources of tem- 
porary popuhirity : and where this is the most 
operative source , the popularity cannot from 
its very nature last: for novelty is ephemeral; 
and the future is death to it. 

That , which , while it is new ;, has also the 
extraordinary felicity of uniting with its novelty 
truth and grandeur or beauty, may continue 
its attractions in right of these latter qualities, 
when the short day of the former is past. But 
it often happens , that the novelty which gives 
the first attraction , becomes afterwards a de- 
formity ; and is only endured for the sake of 
the intrinsic merits with which it is intertwined. 
It is the sterling sense, and moral sweetness of 
Cowley J which still retains the interest of the 
intelligent reader , while those eccentric efforts 
of ill-directed wit, which were the admiration 
of his cotemporaries , and raised the poet in 
their estimation into the heaven of Genius , are 
perused with wondering disapprobation ; and 
are only borne for the sake of the rich ore 
which is buried in them. 

In sciences, mankind may continue to ad- 
vance with the lapse of Time , because these 
are labours of gradation : but that which ad- 

39 



206 GNOMICA. CII. CXXVII* 

dresses itself to the universal sense and uni* 
versal passions of Human Beings , is not to be 
limited to the taste, or the result of the happier 
discoveries, of one age or one nation. 

Science may have continued to advance from 
the Fourteenth Century : but have any sources 
ot poetical delight been since discovered ^ 
which Dante did not know ? 



CHAPTER CXXVIL 

On the thirtieth day of November y i823. 

3o ISov. 1823. 

Thirty-nine years ago I expressed in a Sonnet 
the sentiments which the return of this day of 
the year suggested to me. (i) It is natural to 
compare with it what the experience of this 
long lapse of time has taught me. But to de- 
tail these feelings would be to enter on a field 
too open to the propensity to Egotism which 
I must restrain. The first reflection is, what hopes 
have been fulfilled ? What disappointments have 

(^) Beginning « This thy last day , dark Month , » etc» 
wriuen 3o Nov. 1784 : — printed in Sonnets and other 
Poems y published in March 1785. See it reprinted in 
Anti- Critic, p. i85. 



GNOMICA. CH. CXXVIII. 207 

been incurred? What ought Time to have effec- 
ted ? How much , which was then cause of 
regret , is aggravated by the passage of almost 
double tlie number of years wliich I had then 
lived ? 

What is done hy labour, requires length of 
years to bring it to perfection : except in the 
mechanical and artificial parts of what it has 
to perform. Wliat depends on strengtli of im- 
pression and vividness of fancy, will be best in 
youth. 

Perhaps therefore it is unreasonable to be 
discontented that what was not done early , has 
not been done at all. But what does not depend 
on labour and time , may yet depend on the 
fortuitous circumstances of ease and leisure , or 
difficulties and distraction. 

It is true that great works of Imagination 
have not always been composed in a life of 
calm and security: witness The Fairy Queen ^ 
and Paradise Lost, Fortitude and self-possession 
therefore were among the innumerable gigantic 
qualities of Spenser and Milton. But it is often 
otherwise : and genius not weak , though far 
inferior to that of these divine men, may be 
defeated and paralysed by misfortune. 

There are various plausible opinions with 
regard to the advantages of adopting that regu- 
larity and system in the application of the in- 



308 GNOMICA. CH. CXXVII. 

tellectiial powers of man , of which inferior 
minds so much over-estimate the effects. It 
often happens that an adscititious pecaUarity and 
mannerism is thus contracted , which distorts 
the judgment , and attrihutes to the force of 
truth what is the resuU of habit. 

It is therefore not so much, perhaps, regu- 
lar and mechanical labour , as unbroken energy 
at the moment of application , which consti- 
tutes strength and power ; and ensures success. 
An uneasy mind seeks intensity of toil rather 
for its momentary faculty of producing oblivion 
of all collateral subjects, than for its future good; 
and therefore perseveres no longer than while 
the effort has present interest. 

To have ambition , and yet not to be wil- 
ling to pay the price of ambition , is , in the 
eye of mankind , a criminal and punishable 
folly ; — even though the unwillingness should 
arise from the nicety of virtue , and sm er- 
roneous trust in the benevolence and integrity 
of human nature. It is only Avhen man fails 
after having used all the cunning and caution 
which self-interest dictates, that he is pitied. 

A serene, complacent, temper is most fitted 
to pass through tlie world without dangers or 
obstacles : but then it is little capable of pro- 
ducing those intellectual fruits, wiiicli strike the 
imagination by their fire , and move tiie heart 
by their pathos. 



GNOMICA.. CH. CXXVII. 309 

There is a degree of serenity and exemption 
from care , wiucli often produces even ennui 
and torpor ; and benumbs the faculties. 

It too frequently happens , ti.at in propor- 
tion as one , endowed with brilliant gifts of 
intellect , becomes more a man of the world, 
he becomes less a man of genius ; because 
knowlege of t'le world abates his expectations, 
and freezes his heart. Wliile his general intelli- 
gence improves , while iiis judgment ripens , 
and his observation becomes more precise , 
that compression of particular powers which 
makes a poet, dilutes and evaporates. In society 
he becomes more skilful , more pliant , more 
communicative , and more sagacious : his eccen- 
tricities are worn away; and peculiarities which, 
(at least to tiiC common e}e, ) seemed to border 
on the absurd , are polisiicd into a conformity 
with general manners: — but ti^ese are amend- 
ments , which little mix themselves with his 
compositions in the closet; and are not trans- 
missible to posterity. 

After all , perhaps , neither discipline and 
labour, nor ease, nor anxiety, nor a state of 
strong excitement or mental serenity , have 
much concern with the power or feebleness, the 
merit or demerit, of the literary productions of 
genius ; — which probably depend almost ex- 
clusively on the faculties conferred by Nature : 



310 GNOMIC A. CH. CXXVII. 

— subject however to the influence of the 
accidents which may awaken or suppress the 
desire and ambition of excellence in such pur- 
suits. He who chooses to quit the haunts of 
the Muses for the haunts of public life , the 
glory of an author for the glory of a politician 
or a workUing, must not complain, nor regret 
that he does not acquire that, for which he 
will neither use the means , nor pay the price. 

The advantages to be purchased by literary 
pursuits are scarcely worth the cost , if those 
advantages are placed in the attainment of distinc- 
tion and fame. For these cannot be secured 
either by IN^ature , or skilful conduct , or both 
united. What depends on the public , will al- 
ways be bestowed by caprice , or folly, or in- 
trigue. But there are other advantages , of a 
more generous and sublimer kind , in literary 
pursuits : — the advantages of virtuous occupa- 
tion and intrinsic pleasure, which combine pu- 
rity instruction and delight ; which give us 
the complacence and self-confidence of a more 
elevated order of existence, and raise us in many 
respects above the frowns of fortune. 

A life which directs its labours to public 
affairs , and the concerns of active business , 
is more showy and noisy ; but not perhaps 
less subject to disappointments ; while it has no 
similar antidote in the virtue and pleasure of 
the occupation. 



GNOMICA. OH. CXXVII. 311 

He, who grasps at too much, loses all. I have 
something of a misgiving , that I am myself an 
example of this. On the other hand , there is 
a noble self-devotion in the love of honourable 
fame; — it would not be implanted in us, were 
it not a necessary incitement « to Iwe laborious 
dajsy> for the sake of others; if it were not a 
spur to virtue ; — and if to virtue , then to 
happiness! — 

It often happens then that they , who are 
blamed by others , and who even blame them- 
selves, may yet have taken the right path. But 
it is vain to demand that youth should have 
the wisdom which is taught by the experience 
of age; a wisdom, that almost always comes 
too late for action. Nor would that wisdom in 
many instances be desirable : for why should 
we be assured too early of that sorrow and dis- 
appointment , which arle our lot on earth? (i) 
The prosperous are not happy : we could name 
men loaded with worldly power , honours , 
and wealth , who have not been happy ! Why 
then should they who have been crossed at 
every turn, complain ? There is a virtue which is 
independent of success : there are gifts of nature, 
which caprice , injustice , or malice cannot de- 
stroy , or change ! There are beautiful glo wings 

(^) See the last stanza of Gray's Ode on Eton College. 



312 GNOMICA. CH. CXXVIIl. 

of the heart , splendid imaginings , and vigorous 
textures of thought, of which the possession 
is too positive, and the richness too admirable 
to be at the mercy of envy or corrupt intrigue! 
But we are not to be examined and criticised 
and censured by mean, groveling, narrow, tech- 
nical rules; - as if there was not in our better 
natures a feeling of dehght , a sense of great- 
ness , far above the calculations of reason ! 



CHAPTER CXXVIIL 

To Bacon. 



Ill was thy fate , illustrious Bacon ! frail 

E'en though thou wert ; ( and who of fiuman-kind 
Dares boast that he is free from frailty ?) — thou, 
Glory pursuing, wert percliance a prey 

To confidence betray'd ! — Imps, who w^ith pale 
Dissimulation , while thy miglity mind , 
Intent on inward light , no outward brow 
Could spare of circumspection, stole away 

By foul corruption that great name , whose tale 
Has fill'd the world witfi pity and with scorn; 
Eedimm'd thy wondrous course with clouds of 

night , 



GNOMICA. CH. CXXIX. 313 

Who for a race oi (j^ sapphire blaze y^ \vast born; 
Bade Genius yield to groveling Foil) 's spite ; 
And o'er th' immortal mind given Dulness to 

prevail ! (^) 



CHAPTER CXXIX. 

Popularity not indispensihle to useful authorship. 

3 Dec. 1823. 

We know tliat self-love often deceives us in 
the estimate of our own qualities : yet is there 
no test of merit but that of popular favour? 
If so , there is no certain test : for nothing is 
more proved, than that popular favour is fleet- 
ing and changeable. It gives distinction, where 
there is no desert : it withdraws it from desert 
after it has conferred it. 

Applying this to authors , there are many who 
contend that , whether the Public be right or 
wrong , yet without the hope and chance of 
popularity , it is useless to write. But this is 
built on the false assumption tliat the sole 
legitimate purposes of writing are fame , or 
lucre. He, who v^rites to improve himself, or 

(^) See the character of Bacon defended in Xhe American 
Review (about April) i8a3. 

40 



314 GNOMIC A. CH. CXXX. 

to employ and amuse himself innocently and 
virtuously, has an adequate and strictly legiti- 
mate purpose. It is true , that his purpose may 
not be attained ; for he may not improve him- 
self, nor be either virtuously occupied , or 
amused : but this will not depend on the dis- 
appointment of popular favour : it w ill depend 
on the want of native endowment , and due 
self-discipline. His own consciousness will suffi- 
ciently prove to him this defect , when it exists. 
Friends will not fail to tell it him ; and ene- 
mies will never lose the opportunity of finding 
fault. There is little neutrality in the literary 
world : what is not praised from caprice or 
corrupt motives, is almost sure to be censured, 
where it deserves censure; and very often , 
where it deserves it not. 



CHAPTER CXXX. 

Remarh on certain passages in Wordsworth's Prefaces to 
his Poems , regarding Popularity. 

8 Dec. 1823. 

Though I trust that I never read to borrow, 
yet I am pleased to bring my own thoughts 
to the test of other men's opinions for the pur- 
pose of comparison confirmation or correction. 



G^OMICA. CH. cxxx, 315 

I have dwek a good deal in various parts of 
this volume on the position that popularity is 
not the criterion of merit. Within these two days, 
the Prefaces to Wordsworth's Poems (^) having 
offered themselves to my perusal , I find this 
subject treated in tliem with great profundity, 
great originality , and irresistible truth. The 
conclusions , to wiiich the author comes , and 
which he enforces , are identical with those , 
of wiiich , after forty years of attention to lite- 
rature and an anxious consideration of this 
subject during that long space, I have tiie most 
unqualified conviction; but this virtuous, reso- 
lute , and enlightened Critic supports his doc- 
trines in detail, and by reasonings and illustra- 
tions exclusively his own. It would be more 
than superfluous , it would be impertinent , for 
me to copy or extract from a work, which must 
circulate where mine cannot. 

Wordsworth well observes (^) , oi popular fa- 
i^ourites , that they wdio are the favourites of 
one age are never the favourites of another : 
but of the fauourites of the Feiv, that they who 
are the favourites of one age , always continue 
the favourites of another. 

This is a complete answer to the only reason 



(1) 4 ^Ols. 12.0 1820. 
^) Vol. III. p. 337. 



316 GNOMICA. CH. CXXX. 

assigned for relying on the test of popular fa- 
vour as a proof of merit; viz. its unwersalitj. If 
it were universal , if it were founded in the 
nature of the heart and constitution of Man , it 
would be the same in one age as in another. 
It may be inferred therefore , that it arises from 
accidental fashions and habits , and temporary- 
causes of interest. Men, on whom speculative 
fancies and sentiments can make little impres- 
sion , are roused by that , in which they have 
been practically engaged. 

It may seem difficult to reconcile this with a 
celebrated passage of Johnson , ( in his Life of 
Gray , ) which has been perpetually cited , and 
generally considered to be just , that a by the 
common sense of readers uncorrupted with lite- 
rary prejudices , after all the refinements of 
subtlety and dogmatisms of learning, must be 
finally decided all claim to poetical honours, y> — 
v^The Churchyard)) he goes on, v^ abounds with 
images which find a mirror in every mind , 
and with sentiments to which ei'cry bosom re- 
turns an echo. )) 

But a little reflection will shew that it is per- 
fectly reconcileable , if we understand this C07?i- 
mon sense , ( as in correctness it must be un- 
derstood , y to mean « the common sympathies 
of our nature , y> in opposition to the sense of 
a man of science , which « is a personal and 



GNOMIC A. CH. CXXX. 317 

indU'idual acquisition , sloiv to come to us , and 
bj no habitual and direct sympathy connecting 
us with our felloiv-beings.y> (^) This is the mirror 
and the echo which Johnson must mean ; whe- 
ther they exist upon the surface, and are readily 
found; or lie mOre deep, and require more pain- 
ful evoking. 

Different tasks are assigned to different poets ; 
according to the character and nature of the 
Prophetess on whom they call. To some it is 
decreed 

« Thrice to pronounce , in accents dread ^ 
The thrilling verse , that wakes the dead , 
Till from out the hollow ground 
Slowly breathe a sullen sound, » (^) 

While others court light laughing Echoes ready 
instantly to obey their call. 

How many Prophetesses has Wordsworth cal- 
led , and made hear (f-from their beds of rest , » 
who never were evoked before ! — Who can 
wonder then if the lore of these Prophetesses 
sometimes appears a little strange? May the poet 
have by his example taught his successors to 
wake such oracles in future from their « iron 
sleep ! » 

(^) Wordsworth, iv. 307. See that noble page, and the 
next down to the end of the paragraph at p. 3o^. 
(•^) Gray's Descent of Odin. 



318 GNOMICA. CH. CXXX. 

It may be asked , why that which finds a 
difficult reception at first , makes its way by 
the lapse of time ? It is probable that authority 
gradually supersedes imperfect taste , when that 
authority operates on the young , whom habit 
has not confirmed in their erroneous impres- 
sions and faulty associations. But just authority 
is itself slow in making its way ; comes forward 
gradually; and is received reluctantly. They who 
are the least cpialified to pronounce judgment, 
are always the readiest and the first to obtrude 
it on the Public ; and thus a seeming authority 
for the indulgence of a bad taste precedes the 
authority for correcting and improving it. Men 
of deep thought and refined understandings do 
not float upon the surface of society ; are not 
ready at every call; not easily moved; nor flexible 
and prompt for every task that may occur to be 
quickly executed. Periodical Criticism therefore 
falls into the hands of a more common -place 
set of writers , whose daily intercourse with 
the conflicts of society has smoothed away all 
energies , and made them reject the inconve- 
nience of all individual opinions , from the ob- 
vious perception of the impediments encountered 
by going against the stream , and of the facility 
of accompanying its course. They 

Pursue the triumph ; and partake the gale:y) 

their object is to flattter the public taste, that 



GINOMICA. CH. CXXX. 319 

they may participate of its favour ; and them- 
selves be carried forward by those labours of 
others , which they find to be agreeable to 
the public palate : — not to oppose the cur- 
rent ; and endeavour to create a taste of their 
own, Avhich , even if just, Vvould require a 
long time to force itself in defiance of passions, 
habits , and prejudices. 

It is often urged as a proof of the recti- 
tude of Periodical Criticism that its judgment is 
generally ratified by the public sanction. But 
this is to reverse the facts: the judgment comes 
from the public : and the sanction from the cri- 
tics ; if therefore it proves any thing, it proves 
the rectitude of the public judgment : but I 
take the two to be one ; and only parts of the 
same opinion. If they ever differ , ^ — ( as by 
chance they sometimes do,) — the Public is 
sure to prevail : for it wdll be found that Cri- 
ticism is unable by any puff , or any sincere 
praise, to lift into favour a work contrary to 
the public feeling, or to depress any with 
which the Public is inclined to be pleased. 

Critics know this ; and their employers know 
this; and, as it is one main purpose of these 
Works to help forward the trade of vendors 
of new books they finding it to be beyond their 
power to render saleable what the Public, (re- 
solved to be directed by its own taste,) is un- 



■■■i 



320 GNOMICA. CH. CXXXI. 

willing to buy , do their utmost to help for- 
ward that sort of inclination which already 
exists ; and to push forward the market in the 
course in which it is willing to go. (i) 



CHAPTER CXXXI. 

Objection to a particular position of Wordsvvorth regarding 
the purpose of poetry, 

9 Dec. i8a3. 

I have repeatedly delivered my opinion of 
the nature of Poetry , both in the present 
volume and in the ^nti-Critic , to this effect, — 
that its business is , not to gwe a portrait of 
reality ; — but to represent the impressions made 
upon the fancy , and the creations formed by 
neci> combinations of those impressions , together 
with the sentiments and passions produced by 
such impressions and creations. 

It does not seem to me that I differ from 
what is contained in WordsivortKs Prefaces as 
to any essential position regarding Poetry ex- 

(^) There are certain Reviews , that , besides these , 
have important collateral objects, which they endeavour to 
promote by a large intermixture of original discussion. In 
this respect, they require a different examination, which 
does not belong to the present Chapter. 



GNOMIC A. CIJ CXXXI. 321 

cept this. 1 infer from the construction I put 
on page 3o3 of his fourth vohnne , that the 
nearer poetry in its representations resembles 
the passions pi'oduced by real e^>ents , the more 
perfect he considers it. I say that I infer , be- 
cause the but of this position is to justify the 
« language uttered by man in real life:f> — but 
it seems to me that in other parts the inge- 
nious and profound critic lays down doctrines 
which exactly agree with my own. In vol. 3. 
p. 3oo , he says : « The appropriate business of 
poetry is , to treat of things not as they are^ 
but as they appear ; not as they exist in them- 
selves y but as they seem to exist to the senses 
and the passions. » 

I must not transcribe the numerous beauti- 
fully expressed passages from the same work, 
by which I could fortify my own opinions on 
Poetry , because it would be to transcribe more 
than half the Prefaces, (i) 



(^) Many years had elapsed since I had read these Pre- 
faces — (of course in the original editions, — ) when the 
last Edition was brought me from England , in August 
x823 , after the greater part of this volume was printed. 

hi 



322 GNOMIGA. CH. CXXXII. 

CHAPTER CXXXII. 

Resolution and firmness necessary to render Genius effective, 

9 Dec. 1823. 
There is a quality , which Genius often wants ; 
but without which it will with difficulty , and 
rarely , ( if it ever can , ) rise to its height. This 
is resolution and firmness. Wordsworth says 
with the most affecting magnificence, thatw^/ze/e 
are select Spirits for whom it is ordained that 
their fame shall he in the world an existence 
like that of Virtue , which owes its being to the 
struggles it makes , and its vigour to the enemies 
it provokes; — a vivacious quality , ever doomed 
to meet with opposition ; and still triumphing 
over it, » (^) 

Wordsworth himself has exhibited XkA^vivu" 
<:ious quality ; — this resolution and firmness ; — 
and he will be rewarded for it. (^) 

(1) Vol. III. p. 3o8. 

(2) See the passage in his Preface affixed to vol. i. p. 
XXXIII. beginning , « if bearing- in mind , » etc. — « je/ 
justified by a recollection of the insults which the ignoranty 
the incapable , and the presumptuous have heaped upon 
these and my other writings , I may be permitted to anti- 
cipate the judgment of posterity upon myself , » etc. — See 
also Milton's Latin Ode to Rous, 1646, where he speaks 
of requiem perfunctam invidia ; — of lingua procax vulgi ; — 
of cordatior cetas ; of sana posteritas , etc. 



GJfOMICA. CH. CXXXII. 323 

He , who is driven from his hold by the 
objections , the insults , or the neglects of his 
cotemporaries , can never do great things. Words- 
worth says , that « every author as Jar as he is 
great or original , has had the task of creating 
the taste by which he is to be enjoyed. (^) 

The Multitude are courageous by strength of 
numbers; dant animos socii: but Genius ought 
to be courageous by force of mind. It ought 
to examine well before it takes its stand ; — 
but having taken it, it ought not to be moved 
again by clamour , or artifice , or raillery , or 
misrepresentation , or calumny , or scorn , or 
insult. It should be proof against the attacks not 
merely of the stupid , — but of that Avhich the 
world calls brilliant talent ; — the art of know- 
ing mankind practically in all their faculties , 
passions, habits, and purposes; and conforming 
to them , and flattering them in their errors , 
with the view of ruling them , and leading them 
to their own ends ! — It is this sort of talent, 
which is the effective enemy of Genius : — not 
stupidity , or ignorance : for these last are too 
feeble and contemptible to do any essential in- 
tury. Whatever is spiritual, whatever cannot be 
brought to the test of the Senses , is always 
open to the degrading jests, insolent wit, and 

^) Vcl. III. p. 33o. 



524 GNOMICA. CH. CXXXII. 

irreverent influence of those subordinate abi- 
lities which are adapted to govern the intellects 
of the great mass of Human Beings. Ridicule , 
whether just or unjust, is a weapon, by which 
few are invulnerable. He , who supphes food to 
the passions of envy and malice , is sure to 
find hearers and applaud ers. 

If the real principles of poetry have a fixed 
and definite basis in the constitution of human 
nature, (i) [as it seems to me undeniable that 
they have , ] tlien false criticism may be ans- 
wered , and false ri.licule exposed. But to 
detect unfounded assumptions, to lay bare dist- 
orted reasonings , and to unravel the wilful 
mixture of inconsistent principles , requires a 
steadiness of nerve, a calm self-possession, 
which the irritation of attack seldom permits 
to a sufferer; wliile the defence so made, the 
mob wlio enjoyed the attack, are too impatient 
to peruse , and too dull to comprehend. 

It is pity , that men who have spent their 
whole lives in the coarse bustle of business 
and practical affairs , will attempt to interfere 
with the higher departments of literature. Their 
bent is always in favour of works in the walk 
of acute and accurate observation ; delivered 
with that point and wit , w^hich is most calcu- 

(*) See Wordsworth, m, 3i5. 



G?fOMICA. CH. CXXXIII. 325 

lated to make impression « amid the busy hum 
of men, » — but as they cannot quite over- 
come the force of the universally - admitted 
principle , that the distinction of genius is ima- 
gination , they sometimes look out for the pro- 
ductions of this faculty as subjects for their 
admiration and praise : — and when they do 
this , they almost uniformly mistake extrava- 
gance for merit ; and violations of all proba- 
bility for creative power. There is , in short, 
something so contradictory and inexplicable in 
their system , ( if it can be called system , ) 
that sensitive and morbid Genius gives up all 
emulation and effort in despair. Meanwhile the 
meteors they have lifted up , have risen , only 
to fall of themselves : — but from their ashes, 
fanned by the same processes , rise and fall 
others in unbroken succession. 



CHAPTER CXXXIII, 

Fame is empty : but the intrinsic pleasure of the legiti- 
mate occupations hy which it is gained , is solid and 
durable. 



c A gentle , genial courtesy of mind , 
'To those iviio ivere, or passed for meritorious y 

Just to console sad glotj for being glorious ; 
Ji'^liich is in all respects save noiv and ihen , 



326 GNOMIC A. CH. cxxxm. 

A dull and desolate appendix. Gaze 
Upon the shades of those distinguishd men 

Who were or are the puppet-shows of praise ^ 
The praise of persecution. Gaze again 

On the most favour d ; and amidst the blaze 
Of sun-set halos der the laurel-brow , 

What canje recognize ? a gilded cloud \ 

Lord Byron. 

Genei'a , 29 Dec. 1823. 

I do not exactly comprehend how it is , that 
if' educated persons hai^e thoughts and reflec- 
tions, these thoughts and reflections do not come 
out upon paper. The quiet of the closet , and 
the self-possession of solitude , seem most fitted 
to bring them out. Yet how many who are suf- 
ficiently copious in conversation, are attacked by 
a torpedo of intellect , whenever they put their 
hands upon the pen. — It would seem by this , as 
if the generality can exercise a judgment on things 
presented to them , when they are unable by 
themselves to present the materials on which 
the judgment may operate. 

Nice opinions on the incidents , propensities 
and fates of human life ; animated natural and 
just sentiments ; strong picturesque and glowing 
representations of absent or created images ; — 
these are not to be expected but from minds 
highly gifted : — but something much short 



GNOMICA. CH. CXXXIII. 327 

of these may yet have interest and convey in- 
formation. 

Many go thro' hfe , perhaps , without deriv- 
ing any intelligence from experience; or extract- 
ing any rule of direction for similar cases. A 
hap-hazard decision is made upon events as 
often as they arise , without any endeavour at 
comparison or distinction : nothing is learned 
for the future ; so that each event stands insu- 
lated ; and of no value but for itself. 

But even if bare facts be related clearly and 
accurately , and with a good selection of cir- 
cumstances, though unaccompanied by reasoning 
or observation , they may convey to the reader 
something useful to be known ; some materials 
for himself to work upon. 

Theorists are accused of a want of practical 
skill. It might as well be objected to the know- 
lege of a well-instructed and judicious farmer, 
that he has not an arm as strong and as prac- 
tised in filling the dung-cart as one of his la- 
bourers ! 

It may be said , that there is no virtue in 
the possession of that , which is a natural gift. — 
But there is virtue in nourishing it ; and ripen- 
ing it into fruit. Natural gifts will not advance 
far, without the aid of cultivation. 

It happens but to few , to be capacitated to 
extend their influence beyond the sphere of 



328 GNOMIC A. CH. CXXXIII. 

their personal or material intercourse : — and 
to still fewer , that that influence should last 
beyond their own lives ! — 

He , who loves truth for truth's sake ; who 
seeks knowlege for its own account , without 
any reference to the gratification of selfish in- 
terests or vanities, or of momentary curiosity; 
is of a very different order of Beings from those, 
whose only purpose is some personal advantage, 
or pleasure , arising out of what gives occasion 
to employ themselves in searching for infor- 
mation. 

Innumerable are those , who can learn that 
which they cannot discover: and among these 
are many even of such as love truth and know- 
lege intrinsically. He therefore who is born with 
the ability of discovery , is responsible in duty 
and conscience for the waste of that ability. 

Probably it may be remarked , that he who 
can do most , can do but little : and that if 
fame be what he acquires , that fame is a bub- 
ble , not worth having ! — I am afraid , that it 
is so : — fame, I fear, is empty; and confers 
no solid good ! — When our bones are moul- 
dering in the earth , no a flattery can soothe the 
dull cold ear of death ! » — 

But whether it leads to fame , or does not 
lead to fame; — whether the fame be worth 
having, or not worth having; he on whom nature 



GNOMIC A. cn. CXXXIII. 32 Q 

has bestowed the faculty of original thinkino', 
and original composition , will not , I presimiC , 
be happy without exercising the iliculty so 
bestowed. 

Env% , Malice, and Love of Detraction, however, 
take great advantage of this, — that wen of 
literature and authors are sometimes found to 
be very foolish persons. Undoubtedly it is easy 
to read mucli , and bv the aid of a quick and 
retentive memory to acquire much , without 
the addition of any of the better faculties of 
the mind; and it is easy to write books which 
convey such acquirements , by the same single 
and inferior power. But what is so acquired 
and convened, will contain nothing original; 
nothing solid ; nothing discriminative ; will be 
wanting even in the novelty of illustration ; 
will have no force or freshness ; and will con 
fuse , instead of instructing , the reader , by- 
its injudicious jumble and misapplication of 
discordant materials. 

But to be a powerful and sound author, re- 
quires all the highest faculties of the mind. 

Men cannot discriminate with nv^velty and 
profundity , arrive at grand conclusions , aad 
express them with adee^uate clearness and 
strength , unless they are endowed with supe- 
riority of intellect. 

Fancy, Sentiment, Reasoning, Memory, and 

42 



330 GNOMICA. CH. CXXXIV. 

even Imagination, are necessary for all the higher 
orders of composition ; inckiding history , which 
would seem least to require the last faculty. 
We must have combinations of events strongly 
presented to the mental eye , before we can 
accurately discriminate their forms and colours; 
and imagine the passions of human Beings in 
conflict , before we can penetrate into motives 
of action! 



CHAPTER CXXXIV. 

On the difference between Classical Poetry j and Romantic 
Poetiy, exemplified in Horace's Epode , « Beatus ille,» 
and Milton's « II Penseroso. « 

23 Oct. i8i8. 

Madame de Stael, in her beautiful work De 
L'Allemagne, has well described the distinct traits 
of Classical and Romantic Poetry. Observe the 
different images and sentiments of Horace and 
Milton , where each is delineating the charms 
of rural solitude. The images of Horace are all 
beautiful and natural ; and expressed with ex- 
quisite accuracy , clearness , grace , and felicity : 
but they are gentle and pleasing rather than 
bold : they are not heigthened by the hues of 
fancy: they have no grandeur, no wildness, 



GNOMICA. CH. CXXXV. 331 

no depth of colouring ; and they are accom- 
panied by no sentiments but such as a com- 
mon mind would feel. Indeed I should say that 
the poem is purely descriptive, leaving the senti- 
ments to arise in the reader's bosom from the 
images presented. At the same time it must be 
observed , that we have in English a justly-fa- 
vourite poem , in which several of the most 
touching pictures are so nearly identical with 
passages in this Epode of Horace , that though 
I cannot believe that they were borrowed, it 
shews how the two excellent bards drew , at 
the distance of two thousand years , from the 
same fountain of Nature. Every one recollects 
in Gray's Elegy the lines which correspond 
with the 

pudica mulier , ( quae ) in partem juvat 

Domum , atque dulces liberos ^ 
et 
Sacrum vetustis extruit Ugnis focum 

Lassi sub adventuin viri. 
And again, 

utjuvat pastos oi^es 

Videre proper antes domum ! 
Videre fessos vomerem inversum houes 

Collo trahentes languido ! 
And again in Gray's Ode to Spring the stanza 
which corresponds with 



332 GJfOMICA. CH. CXXXIV. 

Lihet jacere modo sub antiqud ilice: 

Modo in tenaci gramine : 
Lahuntur altis interim ripis aquce : 

Queruntur in sjluis aves , 
Fontesque lymphis obstrepunt nianantibus , 

Somnos quod invitet leves ! 

But what are the circumstances that attend 
MiLTOi'^s sohtade : ' and how is his mind em- 
ployed ? He reads 

Tales of Anights and Barons bold : 

he sees solemn Tourneys: beholds Beauty pre- 
senting the reward of Valour ; and hears aerial 
mnsic above and around him. 

This difference arises both from the disparity 
in the native characters of the minds of these 
poets ; and from the change produced by time 
and country in the manners , habits , religion , 
and superstitions. Whatever nourishes grandeur 
of forms , or sublimity of thought ; whatever 
keeps in agitation the bolder passions , produces 
the fittest materials and fittest age for poetry. 
The age of reason and philosophy , of severe 
understanding and sound common sense, is not 
the age of poetry. 

MiLTor^'s mind was enriched with all the 
splendid extravagances of the Gothic ages. What- 



GNOMICA. CII. CXXXIV. 333 

ever was lofty ; whatever m as wild ; whatever 
was full of terror or darkness , accorded v> ith 
the sombre hues of his imagination , and the 
energy of his mighty faculties. He preferred there- 
fore the blackness of night ; the \^ ar of the ele- 
ments ; the hour when spirits are abroad; to 
the smiling landscape enlivened by the sun; 
the hum of bees; the soft songs of birds; and 
the ripple of gentle streams. 

The store of imposing incidents which the 
credulous annals of the dark ages afforded ; the 
peculiar and striking features of the Gothic 
mythology ; the endless train of superstitions 
•which the corrupt ingenuity of the Popish priest- 
hood had encouraged ; above all , the sublimity 
of a pure and spiritual Religion , filled a genius , 
naturally of the most expansive and exuberant 
powers , with a grandeur of materials unknown 
to the Ancients. 

It is the business of Poetry to be conver- 
sant with all the most evanescent movements 
of the Soul ; to embody them in language ; 

— to give to airy nothing 



A local habitation and a name. 

The mere description therefore of the mate- 
rial world, which is scarcely going beyond 
the -painter , is but a narrow exercise of the 



334 GNOMICA. CH. CXXXIV. 

poet^s talents. To perpetuate the beautiful or af- 
fecting trains of ideas which external objects 
raise in the fertile mind , is a primary duty of 
this Art. It is its power to unite the material 
with the immaterial world, which is its highest 
praise. 

Perhaps even Milton has not in the // Pen- 
seroso intermixed sentiment , and associated his 
ideal imagery, as copiously as he might. But his 
figures are so selected , as to awaken profound 
and melancholy contemplation; and his epithets, 
picturesque and solemn , have all the same 
tendency. 

Milton's habits of life , as well as his native 
propensities , were more fitted to these visio- 
nary creations of the mind , than those of 
Horace. He passed his time in solitude ; and 
in unremitting study of all the extensive erudi- 
tion of past and present ages ; — in the neigh- 
bourhood of a luxurious and crowded Court, 
rendered odious to fjim not merely by its vices, 
but by the neglect with which his indignant 
genius was treated. — Horace , on the other 
hand, was a favoured Courtier; was a man of 
the w orld ; and would have learned in society 
to suppress the wild flights of an erratic ima- 
gination , if Nature had implanted them in him. 



GNOMICA. CH. CXXXV. 335 

CHAPTER CXXXV. 
CONCLUSION. 

19 Feb. 1824. 

The Reader has here an unstudied Collection 
of my Detached Thoughts. Wliat they are worth, 
it would be idle in me to attempt to prejudge. 
I am aware of frequent repetitions ; but I trust 
that the apology made by VJbbe Truhlet for 
such repetitions , (^) in such a work as this, has 
sufficient force in it to protect me from all ra- 
tional censure on this account. 

As to impertinent and hard-hearted censure , 
I have lived too many years and incurred too 
many acts of injustice and disappointment , to 
be much and long affected by it. I know that 
all success in this world is secured by charla- 
tanism, intrigue, and corruption. I know that 
he , who will not condescend to maneavre , and 
work crookedly and underliand, has as much 
chance of gratifying an honest ambition in the 
paths of public life , (*^) as he , who plays with in- 
tegrity and honour , has of winning a game 
against professed gamblers who use loaded dice ! 
— I know that it is exactly the same in Lite- 
rature , as it is in the more active walks of 

(*) See my Prefatory Letter. 

(**) There are exceptions to almost every position : but 
the exceptions to this are very rare. 



336 GHOMICA. CH. cxxxv. 

Political and Professional ambition! I Imow tlie 
means by which popular favour is to be won: 
but I would sooner be a driveller than use them! 
For forty years I have gone my own way ; 
never seduced from that which tlie native im- 
pressions of my heart told me to be the true ; 
— neglected , traduced , and chilled , no doubt, 
and rendered gloomy, by the neglect ; but never 
yet allowing the clouds and rigid coldness that 
enveloped me , entirely 

« To freeze the genial current of my soull » 

I speak not of civil rights : tljis volume is 
not the place for such discussions : I speak not 
of the fool's hope of the security of laws in 
certain cases against particular classes of poli- 
tical power : I speak not of the rottenness and 
impotence of constitutional principles , perpe- 
tually-repeated statutes , and solemnly argued 
decisions of the most illustrious Judges , against 
the passions, the interests, or the caprices which 
may so happen to spring up : — all tfiese are 
reserved for their due channel and opportunity. 
I allude to parties, factions, and combinations, 
( perhaps I may be justified in saying conspira- 
cies , ) of another kind. 

But if a man loves fame , and praise , let 
him not trust to merit; — even admitting him 



GNOMICA. CH. CXXXV. 337 

to be sure that he is not mistaken in his own 
self- estimate ! And what other person will be- 
lieve that he is not mistaken , when the Public 
is not with him ! He may have friends tliat 
wish him well : — but what will that avail , if 
they have not sufficient strengt'i of mind to 
form their own opinions : or sufficient taste or 
judgment, even where they have the courage, 
to think rig^.tly ? 

The few , wlio think for themselves , and think 
rightly , are not those who make the most noise, 
and dictate to otiiers with tlie most activity 
and importunit} . T'je still small voice of reason 
and taste is perhaps heard at last : but it is long 
before it is heard ! 

Yet we cannot keep our full thoughts pent 
up in our bosoms : — if they have no vent , 
they will breed diseases , and settle into im- 
penetrable clouds. Without expectation of fame 
or praise , therefore, he who has habituated his 
mind to constant exercise may find an ade- 
quate gratification in committing his thougjis 
to paper and to print. For wlio ^viil write un- 
less with the hope of bringing the fruits of 
his mind to the test of at least some other 
judgments, however few and select? To what 
is to remain closed up and hid from all eves 
in the writer's Common-P lace-Boo k y he has no 
excitement to give a moment of painful labour, 

43 



338 GNOMICA. CH. CXXXV. 

or spare a moment vvhicli can be more plea- 
santly spent. Tiiere exists not the person who 
even in despair would not wish to leave a 
pleasing memorial of himself in some kind and 
partial bosom. And thus it is that I return to 
the point whence I commenced my course in 
the first chapter of this volume. My circle them 
is completed: and here I am called on to end. 

« To morro{\> to fresh woods ^ and pastures new, » 

While my faculties remain, the subjects of 
moral discussion which interest my curiosity 
will never be exhausted. 



END. 



CATALOGUE. ^ 

WORKS PRINTED AT FOREIGN PRESSES , 

smcE 1818. 

74. Coningsby^ a Tragic Tale, Geneva^ 18 14, 12.° 
76. hord Brokenhiirst^ a Tragic Tale^ Geneva^ 18 19, 12..^ 

76. The Population and Riches of Nations considered. 
Geneva^ 1819 , 8.° 

77. "What arc Riches? Genes a ^ 1821 , 8.0 

78. Sir Ralph Willoughhy , a Tale. Florence^ 1820, 12.'^ 

79. Atavice Regice, Royal Descents. Florence , 1820 , 4«° 

80. Res LiteraricF. vol. i, Naples., 1820, 8.* 

81. — — vol. 2.. Rome ^ 1821 , 8.** 

82. — — vol. 3. Geneva^ 1822, 8.° 

83. Polyanlhea Libroriini Vetustiorum, Genevce<f 1S22. 8.^ 

84. Cinielia, Genevce ^ 1823, 8.*' 

85. Epistola Peirarchce Posteritati. Napoli, 1820 ; — 2S co- 
pies separate. 

86. Julietta : translated from the Italian of Lidgi da 
Porto., by F. D. S. Geneva., 1822-25* copies sepa- 
rate. 8.^ 

87. Phillips's Thealrum Poetarum Anglicanorum : a third 
Edition y 8.** (N.B. The second Edition was in 1800.) 

88. The Green - Book : Criticisms on Modern Authors, 
A Fragment. 

89. J. Pierius Valerianus , De Infelicitate Literatorum. 
Edit, nova ^ Genevce ., 1821 , 8.° 

90. hujuiry into the haws of Descent of the English 
Peerage , 1 823 , Fol. 

91. Letter to the Earl of Liverpool on a Peerage Right. 
Fol. 1822. 

92. Several Private Tracts on a question of Peerage , 
1822 , 1823. FoL 



10 CATALOGUE. 

93. Carmina Brugesiana ; a Collection of Poems re- 
garding Family Events. (Private.) 

94. Libellus Gebensis : poemata qucedani Latina. i6.° 
35 copies* Genevce ^ 1822. 

96. hamento di Strozzi : reprint of a rare Italian Tract. 

Geneva , 1 822 , 8,° ( 1 2 copies only. ) 
96. Anti-Critic. Geneva., 1822, 8.° 
79. Letter on the Corn Question , 1822. Fol. 

98. Letter on the proposed plan for reducing the Na- 
tional Debt. Florence., 1820, 4.° 

99. L. Pdligrini Oralio in obituni TorquatiTassi., ^^gy. 
{A Reprint for the Rojoburghe Club. 1822. 4-** ) 

100. Odo ., Count of Lingen , a Poem in Six Cantos, 
Geneva^ 1824', i6.° 

101. Gnomica. Detached Thoughts, Geneva, 1824? 8.** 

Geweva , 10.*^ March 1824. 



'♦♦♦< 



(«) 



THE AUTHOR, 

ON HIS BOOK 
ENTITLED GNOMICA. 



A, 



.ND thus I wander on ! From day to day 
The lore accumulates ; the pondering mind 
Pierces some reg^ion new ; some cloud expells , 
That sat upon it ; casts a wakening ray 
On some negJrcfed spot ; or strives to find 
In some forgotlen Poet's strains the spells 
Potent to raise his memory from the tomb ; 
And round it call fresh flowers once more to bloom 
Enforces some exploded truth, that long 
Folly and Ignorance have leagued to veil ; 
Fearless defends the genuine sons of Song; 
And scorns the minions whom the rabble hail ! 

Were praise my aim ; and were the clamour loud 
Of mimic multitudes the wild desire , 
That foaming in my turgid bosom burn'd ; 
INTot thus had been mine idle pains bestow'd ; 
Kot thus been spent th' unprofitable fire , 
That still by those it courted had been spurn'd! 
But I have other aims : within my soul 
Other ambition glowing, scorns controul : 
"Within my brain , wild as the Northern lights ' 
Th' Autumnal evening shews , whose radiance gay 
Quick- glancing , now enraptures, now affrights, 

Gnoniica. 



^1 

Tlii: 

T - -■ 



to my J::>::=i back; ani iiii — i !lu:- 

For mil : _r -i:~ . ^ z _. 



HatKz 
Bbckr 



IVei 111 ~y boson; acf 
5 ^3 -yl-te 

: ' . 115 e^&Kt I ki 



-n-iike coli — v Itu 



Tl^: - 1 






But am I happy? — In this calm of pride; 

In this defying confidence, that asks 

No flattering tongue , and hopes no praise sincere, 

Is aught of joy ? Or will it turn aside 

The Ministers of Sorrow from their tasks ; 

Or soothe away th' incumbent Phantom , Fear ? 
Alas , such mighty powers it has not ! — Still 

It has a charm to ward off many an ill ! — 

It dissipates the blight accursed , that comes 

To nip the tender blossom in the bud ; 

It backward bends the savage blast , that dooms 

Fruit , foliage , to the ground , in ruin strew'd : 

It nurses Contemplation in her cell ; 

And bids the poet with enchantment dwell 

On dreams of fairy form created by his spell. 
There is no happiness : — but in the pains 

Of our existence multiplied degrees 

Vary the trial , to which Heaven ordains 

Each mortal's lot by its unscann'd decrees- 
Rule to the heart, and culture to the mind) 

The fortitude that bears with human wrong , 

And nurses still its fires; th' enduring eye. 

That looks on Folly's triumph , yet is kind , 

And keeps michill'd its energy of song , 

And cherishes within th' emotion high ; 

The Hope that never dies ; the spring of joy , 

Which nor clouds stain , nor earthquakes can destroy ! 

Virtues like these , dominion over Fate 

Hold not entire ; — but they can yet appall 

The fiendlike eye of Envy ; and when Hate 

Lifts the dread dart aloft , can bid it fall 

Without a blow from the recoilincr arm: 

And blast the rage that strove to deal the deathlike harm. 
But why is glory to the wise denied 



id) 

Why flourish in the sun of wordiy smiles 
Corruption , Meanness , Avarice , fraudful Gains ; 
All Moral Turpitude ; all senseless Pride ; 
Each false Pretence ; Deception that beguiles 
Worth of the pittance that sad life sustains ; 
And Genius of its self-supporting fires ? 
Why waits success on heartless Crime's desires ? 
While he , whom all of grand , and all of fair , 
And all of tender , ravishes with bliss 
Ineffable , — abandon'd to despair , — ■ 
Is left in tears Affliction's rod to kiss ? 

« Scorn to the bard , » the flippant censor cries , 
«Scorn , and neglect , and penury , and woe , 
))Who dares with voice malign on Fortune's ways 
»To comment ! — Let him spend his nights in sighs, 
>jHis days in lonely gloom : — but let him go 
wFar from the chearful haunts of Man to raise 
)>His chill laments ; and leave the light and gay 
«On gilded wings of Pleasure , while they may , 
j^Beneath the sunshine of their fate to play ! » — 

But what must happen , there is joy to see 
In its bold colours painted to our view ! 
We love companions in our misery : 
We love the tears that are to Pity due ! 
There is a grandeur in Adversity , 
If still to her resolves heroic true , 
Though bending to the storm , she lifts on high 
Her head unconquer'd o'er th' assailing crew ; 
And in defiance bids the foe his blasts renew ! — 



But once more cease , my Lyre ! thy trembling strings 
For even wildly sounding have no rest : 
From my full heart still breathe th' incessant sighs , 



(O 

With which each tender chord responsive rings : 
Then by its weight of thought no more opprest, 
Bouyant my elastic bosom seems to rise! 

Yet who will listen to the self-same tone , 
That like the lulling wind's unvaried moan, 
Still murmurs on unbroken ? — Leave the space 
To harps that can with airier music grace 
The listening crowd ; and strike with livelier sound 
The spot where Nymphs and Satyrs beat the ground. 
Circling with plaudits their fanastic round : 
While Shout, and Laughter, Sport, and wanton Glee, 
Boast of the eternal reign of Revelry. 

And let them loudly boast ! Be theirs the breast, 
That has no sympathy for human woe; 
And ne'er took Care or Forethought for its guest ; 
Th' unwrinkled Ease that never sought to know 
In purer essences ideal joy ! — 
Be'they content ! — but they may find , at last , 
That the light pleasure , which has no alloy , 
If without pain , has without rapture past : 
And thou mayst still , though grave in looks and voice, 
Sometimes in extacy of heart rejoice ! — 

Geneva, 12.^^ March, 1824. 



H 18 89>R 



I 







v^\.i.^'rv*"° 






*-t#»^*^ lO* ANA "^ - • • • <W V?, 'O ♦ » • .<\ 












** % ^^K'° .«^'\. °^9' ^S'^'X '-'^m: «^'"^ 






7 _4-°-nf^ V 












o. ♦ 









^ ^ ,.^ • ^^k^'^ o iO V* » Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. ^\. 

^ ^t.gjjM'^r ♦* ^ ** tGK^^^ * ^ ^^ Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide :;^ 

«r***l , ♦ <a," O^ *T^SK>%* J) ^ Treatment Date: March 2009 >^« 



V -c,^ *i?^^* *^ '4'^ »-*e.*s'. '^ PreservationTechnologies 

-^ A^ * ^^iiSi • ^t\ ^ ♦ Avs^Al^ a world leader in collections preservation 

V^'V* ^ / ^P l ^ ^r %0<p' *X^CC»%/6^* 111 Thomson Park Drive 






.■*• 



Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
(724)779-2111 



O. 'o . T • ./V 






•- -o/ •' 






















;<k •' 






V- o" • 
















HECKMAN 
BINDERY INC. |§ 

^, DEC 88 

N. MANCHESTER, 
^^^^ INDIANA 46962 



^q 



v^ *' 















